Sounds of Silence (10 page)

Isabel stood up, leaving her hand on Mercedes’s shoulder. “I told you, this is kind of a delicate situation.” She kept her voice low, hoping it wouldn’t carry to the other side of the curtain. “Agent Carmichael should be here any minute—”

“Here I am, Isabel. What’s going on?”

At the sight of Eli’s clean-shaven, sun-browned face, Isabel nearly broke down in fresh tears. Her emotions were way too close to the surface.

Blinking hard, she pulled in a deep breath. “It’s just that we don’t have any medical records for Mercedes. I don’t know what she’s allergic to, what inoculations she’s had—”

Eli smiled down at the nurse, who blushed as if she were fifteen instead of at least twice Eli’s age. “Jeri and I have a longstanding relationship, don’t we? Let’s go get this straightened out right now.” He looked at Isabel, calmness and confidence radiating from his blue gaze straight to her heart. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”

Eli and the nurse had barely vacated the doorway when the curtain skated back on its rod, and Pamela poked her head around. “Was that Eli Carmichael?” she asked. “What’s he doing here?”

“The same thing you are,” Isabel said. “Checking on us.”

“He’s certainly been the attentive suitor lately. That was you I saw the other day at the red light, wasn’t it? Why were you crying?”

Isabel felt like a specimen under a microscope, though she was certain her friend hadn’t intended to put her on the spot. Her face must have shown her unease, for Pamela put a well-manicured finger across her lips.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. You’ve got enough to worry about.” Her glance brushed over Mercedes. “Who
is
this little girl, anyway?”

Currently operating on little more than emotion and rapidly draining adrenaline, Isabel blurted, “This is Mercedes.” She reached out and took Mercedes’s small hand. “She’s staying with me for a little while.”

“Really.”
Pamela approached the foot of the bed and smiled at Mercedes. “I wondered what you were doing with a girl’s swimsuit in your shopping cart the other day! Isn’t she beautiful? Is she your niece? How old are you, darling?”

“She doesn’t hear or speak,” Isabel said as Mercedes faintly squeezed her hand. “She’s seven.”
We think
. Unwilling to flat-out lie, she ignored Pamela’s question about her relationship to the child.

Pamela clasped her hands together. “Then of course she comes with you to my house. When will you be released?”

“Tonight at the earliest. Probably tomorrow.” Isabel reached for her rings, then realized she’d never gotten around to putting them back on. They were in that dresser drawer—burned up, along with every other item that meant anything to her. Pictures. Clothes. Keepsakes. Even that stupid bowling ball. She wanted to burst into tears, but what good would that do? The verse about storing up treasures in Heaven suddenly rang in her head with bell-like clarity.

“Bless your heart,” said Pamela, with true southwestern sympathy. “Tell you what, I’ll go shopping and buy you a couple of new outfits. That’ll make us both feel better. What are you, about a size six?”

“Um, I don’t think so—”

“Yes, and definitely petite.” Pam whisked back around the curtain to retrieve her bag. She reappeared, resolved in her self-appointed mission. “Since Eli’s here to look after you, I’ll take care of clothes for the children, too, and freshen up the guest rooms.” She kissed Isabel’s cheek and marched toward the door. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

Worry?
Isabel collapsed into the chair beside Mercedes. What did she have to worry about?

Chapter Nine

E
li knew he was a goner when Isabel—even dressed in a ’70s-era bathrobe and smelling like an ashtray—could make his tongue fall out of his head. He loved the sleepy eyelids veiling those magnetic dark eyes, the blue-black sheen of her hair, and the tiny beauty mark above the corner of her mouth. He loved her laugh and even the sparkle of tears when she got emotional. He loved the way she fit just under his shoulder when he walked beside her.

He was definitely doing a tango with the L word. However, she
was
going to explain to him why she’d agreed to stay with Pamela Hatcher.

The pediatric ward at suppertime was a zoo: crying babies, nurses hollering for back-up, carts rattling past loaded with metal trays. And the smells…

Eli longed for the relative peace of a good shoot-out.

“So Pam thinks Mercedes is your niece?” He peeled the top off a container of Jell-O and handed it to Mercedes. She beamed at him and began to eat as if it were her last meal on the way to the gallows.

“I think so. I didn’t correct her anyway.” Isabel stood beside Danilo, watching to make sure he didn’t spill milk all over his hospital gown. They’d already changed his sheets twice.

“I’m impressed, Mrs. Valenzuela. Didn’t think you had it in you.” Eli sat down in a visitor’s chair.

Isabel gave him a look. “I am not comfortable with lying to my friend. How can she pray for me if I don’t tell her—”

“Mom,” said Danilo around his straw. “A superhero can’t reveal his identity, remember?”

Eli grinned. If the small-fry got it, surely he could depend on Isabel’s discretion. He relaxed as much as possible in the uncomfortable chair. “I’ve arranged a safehouse for you and the kids. It’ll be ready in a day or two.”

Isabel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t see why that’s necessary. There hasn’t been one sign that anybody’s actually looking for Mercedes.”

“Can we look for Fonzie before we go to the safety house?” Danilo was looking at his mother, wide-eyed at her vehemence.

Eli sighed. “We’ll do our best to find him.” He picked up the TV remote and found a cartoon station. “Here, squirt, finish your milk and watch your cartoons.”

Isabel accompanied him, her reluctant expression making it clear she didn’t want any more bad news. He turned her to face the window and stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. He bent close to her ear. Whew, she stunk of smoke. He smiled in spite of his worry.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he said, and felt her shiver. “The fire was no accident. I walked through your house with the fire marshal. He hasn’t had time to file the report yet, but there was evidence of arson.”

Isabel had stiffened more with each word until her back shook against his chest. For propriety’s sake he’d left the door wide open. He knew it wouldn’t look right if he pulled her into his embrace.

So he tightened his clasp on her shoulders and softened his voice. “I don’t know how they found out where Mercedes is, but we can’t take any more chances. Y’all can go home with Pam tomorrow, but the three of you are disappearing as soon as I can arrange—”

“Somebody deliberately burned down my house? Tried to kill us?” Isabel’s voice was a horrified whisper. She had crossed her arms across her stomach, a protective gesture that went to his heart.

Eli could see the edge of her profile, the tremble of her lips. He had no words to comfort her or relieve her fear. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should have never gotten you into this mess. If I’d been there last night—”

“You might be dead,” she said fiercely. “Don’t be stupid, Eli, it was my choice to do this. And we can’t change what happened. I’m sad about losing my stuff, but—stuff is
stuff.
I’ll do whatever I have to, to keep my children safe.”

Eli wondered if she realized she had claimed Mercedes as her own. “You’re a trooper.” He released her shoulders.

“No.” Isabel whirled to face him. “I am not a trooper, I’m a homemaker and a mom. I agreed to help you because that little girl needs somebody to love her, but I will not let Border Patrol run my life indefinitely. If you don’t catch the bad guys within about forty-eight hours, I’m moving to San Antonio where it’s safe for me and my kids.” She notched up her chin. “Do you hear me?”

He whistled at her vehemence. “I hear you.” He heard her words, and he also got the subtext. She wouldn’t be kissing any more Border Patrol agents in the future. “But I can’t make any guarantees about how long this will take.”

“Well, just so you know how I feel.” She stuck her hands in the pockets of that ugly bathrobe, stepped around him, and walked over to check on Danilo.

Unfortunately, Eli knew exactly how she felt.

The Hatchers’ ranch house—which, in Isabel’s mind, qualified as a mansion—backed up to a man-made lake stocked with catfish and landscaped with flowering shrubs. The estate included a thousand acres on the Rio Grande, the main source of water for the ranch.

Yawning, Isabel shifted in her poolside chaise longue. The splash of the waterfall should have lulled her right to sleep. Luxurious to be clean and dressed in comfortable clothes, but she couldn’t shake a feeling of restlessness.

“You look so tired. Why don’t you go on up to bed?” suggested Pamela, who floated nearby on a raft. “Rand and I will keep an eye on the kids.”

Isabel shook her head. “I’m too keyed up to sleep.” A ripple of childish giggles caught her attention. Through the wrought-iron fence she could see Rand Hatcher helping Mercedes and Danilo feed the fish. Every fistful of bread crumbs brought a noisy churning to the surface of the water.

“Mercedes is a sweet little thing,” Pam observed with a sigh. “Rand and I were looking forward to having grandchildren one day. But now…” Her voice petered out in sadness. “Well, now, of course, that will never happen.”

Isabel wondered what Pamela would do if she knew Mercedes had probably witnessed her son’s murder.

“How did you get through it?” Pamela had hooked the heel of one foot across the edge of the pool so that she could talk to Isabel without floating away. “How did you keep bitterness from eating you alive when that monster killed your husband?”

That monster
was Eli’s father. Getting to know Eli and Owen, appreciating the depth of their shame, had lessened Isabel’s rage, if not her sense of loss. She shrugged, uncomfortable with giving spiritual counsel to her older friend.

“I did what you’ve always told me to do. Prayed a lot. Cried out to God. Read from the Psalms.” Laying her head back against the chair, Isabel watched a flock of ducks paddle across the lake. “Frankly I’ve been so busy keeping Danilo out of trouble and trying to make ends meet, I haven’t had time to dwell on myself.”

Pamela dabbled her hands in the water. “I read my Bible every day. It says to forgive. But how can I, when I don’t know who did it or why?”

“I went for a whole year without knowing. If Rico’s partner hadn’t made it his mission to figure it out, I might still be in the dark.” She hesitated. “I think sometimes God leaves us in the dark to force us to trust Him.”

“Boy, that’s depressing.”

Isabel smiled. “Maybe it seems that way. But what if we choose to believe God’s going to do something miraculous, in spite of the way things look?” She heard her own voice growing more confident as she spoke. “What if we believe God really is…you know—
for
us?”

Pamela stared at Isabel for a moment, expression blank. Finally she pushed away from the side of the pool. “Well, it would truly be miraculous if anything good came out of this whole mess.”

If she looked at the situation from a worldly point of view, Isabel would have to agree. She couldn’t even go to her house to go through the ruins looking for keepsakes, because Eli had forbidden her to leave the Hatchers’. She had no idea if anything remained after the fire.

She closed her eyes and listened to the soft evening sounds of the waterfall and the katydids singing in the shrubbery.

Lord, I know You’ve heard my cry for help. Please show Pam how much You love her, too.

Artemio Petrarca was a wiry young Mexican cop who could blend into just about any setting without raising an eyebrow. Eli picked him up at the Mexican checkpoint on the international bridge, then turned to drive back onto U.S. soil. No matter what Marlon Dean thought, it was past time to compare notes.

Temio slouched in the passenger seat of Eli’s Border Patrol SUV without bothering with a seat belt. American law didn’t impress him much. He pointed the air conditioner vents at his face and turned the fan knob to full blast. “Man, some days I’d kill for an hour in a walk-in freezer.”

Eli smiled. “We’ll stop by KFC and ask for a tour, if you want.”

Temio just grinned. “So, what’s the lowdown, my brother?” he drawled. Temio loved to practice his English, but sometimes he sounded like a character from a bad cop show.

“The situation’s escalated over here,” Eli said. “Somebody burned down Isabel Valenzuela’s house night before last.”

“You’re joking.”

Eli shook his head grimly. “I wish. Somehow, somebody knew my witness was there.”

Artemio was silent for a moment. “I haven’t said a word about her to anybody.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Eli hesitated. “My supervisor was the only person besides me and my brother who knew where she was. Dean’s got it in for me.”

Artemio whistled. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know yet.” Eli choked on disgust every time he pictured Dean double-crossing him. “Did you get a chance to check up on Hector Caslas?”

“Yeah. Seems to be just your garden variety pimp.”

Eli put that information in context of that dark, rat-infested storeroom where he’d talked with Caslas. “Something about his place wasn’t right. The way he shut me down when I mentioned the Hatcher kid.”

“Look, man, I been keeping my ear to the ground, like you asked me to. Hatcher was pretty well-known in the bars. Had a thing for Mexican hookers.”

“The fast track to slow death,” Eli said, parking in front of a convenience store just off the bridge. “Come on, I’ll buy you a Coke.”

The two men entered the store, where the female clerk appreciatively eyed Eli’s uniform and dismissed Artemio with a glance. Eli paid for the drinks, stood back and watched his friend flirt with unquenchable Latin hubris. By the time they left, Temio had the clerk’s phone number in his pocket. Owen could take lessons.

Smiling, Eli started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “So. Any names connected to Hatcher’s love life?”

“Yeah, but I suspect it’s a stage name. They call her Diamond. She’s disappeared, though. Nobody’s seen her since the night Hatcher was killed. Some say she might have done it herself.”

“That’s something.” Eli downed half his soft drink as he thought about it. “Maybe you could keep digging. Find out her real name.”

“You know I’ll do what I can, man.”

“I appreciate it. Listen—”

Headlights in the rear-view mirror caught his attention. An old, boxy van was following too close. He’d pull the guy over and give him a ticket if he didn’t have so much else to think about.

He glanced at Artemio. “I’d better take you back. I’ve got to get back to the Hatcher’s place and keep an eye on—” Eli broke off as the truck lurched, nearly jerking the steering wheel out of his hands. The van behind him had hit him from the rear.

Bracing himself against the dash, Temio broke into a string of colorful Spanish as Eli got control of the wheel. “What’s that fool doing?”

“He rammed me on purpose,” said Eli, swinging into the opposite lane to avoid another collision. He braked, letting the van skid past, and picked up the radio. He memorized the tag number and read it to the dispatcher, along with his location. “Backup requested,” he finished, and took off after the van. “You might want to fasten your seat belt,” he told Artemio.

Despite the vehicle’s apparent age, the driver of the van manipulated the Del Rio streets with remarkable speed and agility. Eli chased him for a mile or so before he heard the wail of a siren approaching from the north. Backup at last.

But before he could blink, the van suddenly screeched into a U-turn, emitting the
pop-pop
of gunfire. Eli instinctively jerked the wheel, Artemio roared, and the SUV hit the hard shoulder.

Everything went tumbling.

Holding a tiny orange-striped kitten under her chin, Mercedes peeked over the stall door. She couldn’t see Danilo now, but a few minutes ago he had run out of the barn into the dark. They were playing
el bote
—the tin can—similar to
escondidas
, the hide-and-seek game she’d learned in the streets of St. Teresa.
Señor
Hatcher had brought them out here after supper to see the kittens and to give Isabel time to talk to her friend, the
señora
. Isabel had told Danilo not to leave the barn. Mercedes wondered if she should tell on him.

Danilo was sweet, but so silly. Using a mixture of Spanish and English and goofy made-up hand signs, he’d insisted on being “it.” Then, in order to make the game fair, he’d stuffed his ears with wads of cotton he’d brought from the bathroom. She’d laughed at him, but agreeably kicked his empty soup can all the way to the other end of the barn.

While Danilo chased the can, Mercedes had slipped into the stall to hide. She hadn’t been able to resist another look at the kittens, sleeping in a furry, squirmy heap next to their mama. When after a long time Danilo still hadn’t found her, she had decided to look out. That was when she’d seen him leave the barn.

Now she wondered where
Señor
Hatcher was. She had last seen him going into a tack room with a tiny cell phone pressed to his ear. She felt the kitten vibrating against her neck and rubbed her cheek against the top of its head for comfort. There was nothing to be afraid of exactly, but she didn’t like being left all alone.

She decided to give up, and if Danilo saw her before she got to bang the can on the ground, well—so, she lost. Not so big a deal. Returning the kitten to his brothers and sisters, she opened the stall door, then walked boldly down the center aisle of the barn. She looked with interest at the beautiful horses
Señor
Hatcher kept. Big, sleek animals with bright eyes and well-brushed manes, they thrust their noses over the doors as she passed. They didn’t frighten her as long as they stayed in the stalls.