She got out of the Jeep and ran around the front into the lobby. Dominic watched the street and sidewalks for signs of the man in the car, but he saw none. Elena was back in five minutes.
“She doesn’t like it but she’s resigned to not having me with her. Right now she’s alone in her room. I warned her about that jerk, Jorge, and she said she’d be careful.”
Dominic’s internal radar was humming. Someone taking an interest in Elena with the questionable deaths unresolved made his anxiety level hit a new high. He drove a circuitous route to
doña
Carolita’s up through the barrio San Pedrito where Armando lived. The houses were on a hill, and the wind was worse. Debris flew about unchecked. A piece of tin glanced off the windshield of the Jeep, and they all ducked. Armando was hunkered down in front of his shack, protected from the wind by the others that crowded on all sides.
Dominic stopped and shouted to be heard above the wind. “Are you okay?”
“We’re okay, go on. Take care.”
Dominic continued on, creeping down the hill that lead to the lower town and
doña
Carolita’s house.
“No one’s following us,” he said, after checking in the rear view mirror.
Elena looked back. “Good. That guy really gives me the creeps.”
“Me, too.”
They pulled up in front of
doña
Carolita’s. It looked as if no one was home. Elena pulled out her keys.
“I’ll pop in and try to entice her to come with us.”
Dominic nodded and left the engine running. He looked in the sack Elena had left on the front seat and saw the clothes.
He turned to Miguel in the back seat. “Looks like you got new clothes.”
“And a soccer ball.” He held up the ball.
“Nice. When the storm is over, we’ll have to practice.”
“Will you play with me?”
“Sure, although I’m not very good.”
Elena was not long in returning. She had donned dry shorts and top and her hair was gathered up under her field hat. She stowed her computer and back pack in the back seat with Miguel.
“Where’s
doña
Carolita?” asked Dominic.
“She left a note that she went to stay with her mother during the storm. That’s good because her mother lives with her other daughter and her husband, so there’ll be more people there to help each other. That’s a load off my mind. She advised me to stay with my mother at the hotel.”
“Is her house secure? I see she boarded the windows.”
“I think so. She’s got the back of the house all closed up, too. But bad news -- the electricity is out.”
“Not good. At least the clinic has a generator.”
Dominic maneuvered the Jeep through an obstacle course back to the clinic and parked in front. Most of the people had left. An American volunteer from the Episcopal mission, wearing a Red Cross arm band, was trying to get the generator up and running.
Dominic walked over to help. He checked the equipment over. It was out of gas. No one had bothered to fill the tank. He’d have to go down the street to the service station. With any luck they’d still be open. He could only hope they had a generator.
He’d take Elena and Miguel with him since he didn’t want to let them out of his sight. He was worried about the strange guy interested in Elena. Maybe they would be better off with her mother. He could drop them off at the hotel but the strange guy might be staying there. He could take Elena and Miguel to his house to ride out the storm, but then they’d be there by themselves since he might have to leave.
Before he could put a plan in motion, Connie Lascano walked into the clinic, wearing a plastic rain poncho in brilliant orange. She looked cheerful, like there wasn’t an impending hurricane or an unsolved murder.
“I came by to see if I could catch Elena,” she said. “I understand she is looking for me.”
Elena came out from the back room where she had gone to help Corazón. “There you are, Connie. I heard you were at one of the shelters, helping out. How are things going?”
“We are trying to secure the area and set up guards at the shelters. I was also trying to arrange a bodyguard for you. I hoped to have one in place by this afternoon, but all available personnel have been mobilized to help with the storm.”
“Can you come into the back?” Elena asked. “I wanted to share something with you.”
* * * * *
Connie Lascano liked to look for the best in everyone. Sometimes she wondered if she might be in the wrong profession. Take Elena Palomares, standing before her, relating her story about Rolando and his motorcycle buddies. Connie had seen those macho jokers cruising around town in their bright, shiny motorcycles. Now that Elena voiced her suspicion, Connie wondered about their source of income. She’d have them checked out.
She wanted to believe Elena. They had checked her record. Clean. She seemed to be what her degrees and profession said she was -- a down-to-earth, intelligent, professional woman, willing to cooperate with the police investigation and report what she knew. She had a pleasant countenance and personality to boot. Why shouldn’t she be trusted? Because in Connie’s professional career she had seen the most upstanding citizens come out on the wrong side of the law. She would reserve final judgment till all the facts were in. But her gut feeling told her that Elena was in real danger for whatever the reasons.
Then Elena related the story of the creepy guy in the yellow car. The description set off red flags, confirming Connie’s gut feeling.
“You say he’s staying at the Marina Copan? I’ll have him picked up for questioning.” She turned to go as there wasn’t a minute to lose.
Elena held up her hand. “Wait. Have you identified the murdered man yet?”
“No, we have nothing on him, although we posted bulletins in-country and in all the neighboring countries in Central America. He may be part of an international ring of thieves I’ve been investigating. They’re a bunch we’ve had a tough time nailing.”
“What about the boy in the river. Do you know who he is?”
Connie shook her head. “We haven’t been able to get anyone to identify him. We need Miguel’s help.”
By the look on Elena’s face, Connie could tell she knew what had to be done. She had to tell Miguel about the death of the child.
Elena said, “I guess we have no other choice.”
“The child is in the morgue,” said Connie. “Can the two of you go with me now?”
Elena looked out the door at the pouring rain.
She was a beautiful, bright woman, thought Connie, and she hoped Elena wasn’t mixed up in any of this. But she had seen beautiful, bright women before who were as ruthless and deadly as the worst criminal.
“Do you have any more of those plastic ponchos?”
Connie smiled. “I bet Dominic has some. Let’s see.”
Jorge ditched the yellow car several blocks away from the hotel. That bitch might be on to him now, and this was a hot car. He didn’t need to be seen in it again. If she had just gotten into the car with the kid. Now he knew he had thrown the wrong kid into the river. Damn kids. How many were there anyway?
He put his jacket collar up and his head down as he walked in the rain. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He couldn’t chance going back to the hotel. Damn storm was complicating things.
If he could just find where she was going to ride out the storm with the kid ….
Damn that bitch.
Damn that little kid.
And damn this hurricane.
* * * * *
Dominic had the generator working, cots set up, water neatly stacked, and medicines accounted for by the time Elena and Miguel returned, dropped off in an Army truck. Bless you Connie Lascano, thought Dominic, for not letting them walk back on the streets alone. Little Miguel didn’t look happy.
“How’d it go?” he asked them.
“The boy,” said Elena, “was one of Miguel’s friends, not Gordo, but one of the other boys that sometimes hung out with them under the bridge. He drowned. The boy had abrasions that indicated his falling or being pushed into the river, maybe held down.”
Dominic hunkered down so that he could be eye level with Miguel, who still gripped Elena’s hand.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said. “You know you are safe here with us, don’t you?”
Miguel avoided Dominic’s eyes and cast his upon his sneakers.
Dominic gathered the boy into his arms and hugged him. Miguel’s small hand left Elena’s, and he wrapped his skinny arms around Dominic’s neck. He felt the child’s silent sobs against his neck and held him close. He thought of the child he would never hold, the one his cheating wife had denied him, the child who belonged to someone else. His bitterness had changed to sorrow, a sorrow that had taken up permanent residence in his heart.
Elena hunkered down and stroked Miguel’s hair. None of them spoke. Outside the wind howled in deadly earnest. When Miguel’s sobs quieted, Dominic released him, took out his handkerchief, dried Miguel’s eyes and wiped his nose.
“Hey,” Dominic said, “how about something to eat? One of the town ladies brought us some soup and
pupusas
. I can warm them on our burner in the kitchen. Probably there are cookies, too.”
Miguel sniffed and nodded his head. Dominic caught Elena’s gaze. They exchanged an unspoken understanding about Miguel, that whatever it took they would take care of him and protect him.
Miguel followed Dominic to the back. Elena took on the task of warming the food, while Dominic helped the boy change. Elena served the repast, and they sat together at the small clinic table.
“Elena,” Dominic said, “I think we should ride out the storm here at the clinic. We have cots and blankets, water and food. The building is sound. Then I can be here if anyone needs me.”
“I can help you, and we’ll know that Miguel is safe with us.”
“Then you’ll stay?”
“I will. I’d like that.” She smiled back at him, and he saw in her beautiful eyes and her easy smile a willingness that stirred unholy ideas in him.
“Then it’s settled.”
Elena finished and cleaned up the kitchen. She helped Miguel settle on a cot squeezed into one exam room. Dominic listened to her tell the child a story that sounded very much like Little Red Riding Hood, while he worked pulling cotton blankets from the storage bin. Miguel was soon asleep. Exhaustion had caught up with him.
“What’s next?” Elena asked, coming to see what he was doing in the main room.
“Here, have a bag of donated clothes. We need to sort them. Size them as best you can and arrange them on the shelves we have labeled.”
Elena threw herself into the task, humming a tuneless song as she worked. Dominic closed the windows in the back and secured the shudders. The clinic was solidly built of cinder block and cement and was surrounded by other similarly built structures. He wasn’t worried about the walls. It was the corrugated tin roof that might be a problem, if the wind were strong enough.
The rain kept switching directions and blowing into the clinic, so he pulled shut the big metal sliding panel that formed the wall of the clinic that faced the street. He opened the single door in the panel so that people would know they were open.
Townspeople drifted in and out for medical help, water, advice and to exchange news of the progress of the storm. Dominic helped as needed, glad to be doing something useful, glad to have Elena and Miguel under the same roof with him, glad in spite of everything that he had come to Copan Ruinas.
* * * * *
The storm worsened, and people stopped coming. Dominic shut the front door because rain kept blowing into the clinic. Corazón had gone home to be with her family. The cell phone still worked, and they were in touch with the police department. Connie told them not to leave the building. She had grounded all motor vehicles. No one was to be on the streets. It was too dangerous.
By night time, the wind was so ferocious the entire building shook. Water leaked under the doors and windows, and rain blew sideways. They stopped the generator to conserve fuel and lit candles.
Elena sat down to rest on one of the cots Dominic had set up in the main room. She listened to the storm. The banging and crashing outside set her nerves on edge and made her jump more than once. Fury was the word that came to mind. A fury had been unleashed outside, and she peered up at the ceiling, wondering if the roof would hold, wondering how her mother was fairing at the hotel. Knowing her mother, she was probably involved in a hurricane party. She thought of
doña
Carolita and knew she would be safe with her family. She thought of the child- mother Angelina in her village and wondered if she would be all right with her mute child, Eduardo. She thought of Armando and his family in their flimsy shanty home. She hoped they had taken refuge in a shelter. Fear dug a pit in her uneasy stomach. She prayed they would all make it through. And she was not a praying woman.
Dominic sat down on the cot across from her. The storm put an edge on everything including her awareness of Dominic’s close proximity.
“You okay?” he asked.
“So far, so good,” she said in what she hoped was a neutral voice. “I didn’t realize a hurricane could be so noisy. How long will this go on?”
“Depends on how well formed the storm is. That’s hard to track since the radio is dead. If it has a well formed eye, when that passes over everything dies down for a while. We might even see the moon. Then the whole fury starts again. When the eye comes, I’ll go out for awhile to check on damage and casualties, see if anyone needs help.”
“Funny you used the word fury. The same word came to me. Fury. Mother Nature sounds like she is furious with us.”
Dominic smiled ruefully. “She probably is. Maybe she feels we’re a poor excuse for a human race and is trying to wipe us off the face of the earth.”
His gaze held hers. “Are you really okay?” He reached out and took her hand in his. “You aren’t scared are you?”
“Fine, I’m fine. I’m glad I’m with you.” She squeezed his hand.
“I’m glad you’re here. I can look after you and not worry about your safety.”
“I don’t mean to be a burden.”