The Cartel (19 page)

His brother would have questions after he’d disposed of Lydia. If he didn't have the right answers, utter chaos could erupt. Control was crucial. Once Lydia was shut away from the civilized world, he would be able to concentrate on Antonio.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The visit with Marta and seeing his son left Antonio full of emotion. He longed to spend more time with her and really have a chance to meet the boy. He ached at the thought of how abandoned Marta had felt. He always considered himself a man of honor, but now visions of himself in a different light haunted him—visions he did not care to see.

On his way back home, he thought about ending things with Lydia, but he couldn't hurt her. Lydia had always been good to him: kind, sweet, and loving. But their passion for one another had long since disappeared. If he could discover a way to rekindle it, then he might try.

For the first time in his life, he felt all of his fifty years. He had worked hard to build his empire but now he wondered if the power and the money were worth the price he had paid. As he was chauffeured toward his home, he made the decision to do the right thing. He decided to become responsible, respectful to his wife and family. No matter how badly his heart ached and yearned for things to be different, he realized what needed to be done.

He asked his driver to take him to his favorite jeweler in town, where he purchased a beautiful emerald necklace for Lydia. He then picked up a dozen red roses and a bottle of her favorite wine. If Marta did not want him in her life, then he could shut her out of his. He would become as honorable as she had always been.

As they pulled into his driveway, Antonio saw several cars there, including two police vehicles. His heart sank, because he knew there must be serious trouble. The entire police department and the local justice system were on his payroll, so he knew that whatever they were there for had to be serious. His first thought was that something had happened to one of his children. Stepping out of the back of his car, Emilio came toward him.

"What is going on here?" Antonio barked.

Emilio put his arm around his brother. "It's Lydia."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is no easy way to say this," Emilio sobbed.

"What's happened?"

"She was in a car accident last night. The police are investigating, but it looks as if her brakes went out, or possibly she took a corner too fast and lost control. I am so sorry, but her car went over the side of the cliffs."

"Is she . . ." Antonio couldn't even finish the sentence.

Emilio nodded. "They haven't found her body yet. They think it drifted out to sea."

"Oh, my God!" Antonio cried. His shoulders sank as he stood staring at the ground. His mind went numb, as if he couldn't form a single thought. The faces of his precious girls flashed through his mind. "Do the girls know?"

"No."

"Where are they?"

"Playing with Chata."

"How do I tell them? How am I supposed to tell them that their mother is gone?" Antonio cried aloud. A group of men whom Antonio recognized as part of the police department, turned around to look his way with sympathy.

The police chief approached him. "
Patrón
, we are so sorry for your loss." He reached his large hand out to Antonio. The jowls of his face seemed more noticeable with the look of concern in his eyes. He was an enormous, balding man with a mustache that curled at the sides. He was famous for always possessing Cuban cigars, claiming that Castro sent them to him personally in large quantities and that he saved them for special occasions. Everyone knew this to be pure fabrication, but he was friendly and a good storyteller, and therefore well liked, not to mention being an easy pay-off.

"Thank you," Antonio whispered.

The other men came over one by one to give their condolences, each extremely respectful of the man they had come to call
Patrón
, including the local priest, who was indebted to Antonio for all he had given to the church. The priest tried to ask Antonio about memorial service arrangements, but Antonio waved him away, beseeching Emilio, "Will you please take care of this for me?"

"Of course I will. You can count on me."

"Thank you. I need to be alone, if you'll excuse me."

"
Sí, Patrón
. We understand," replied Father Morales.

Antonio walked through his front door in a complete daze. He took the necklace out of his briefcase and clutched it in his hands. "I have been a horrible man," he said aloud, "and this is my punishment—to tell my daughters that their mother is dead."

He sat down on the velvet sofa that faced the bay windows, which looked out on a small, bubbling fountain that tended to attract all sorts of birds, Lydia's favorite place to sit. There were many nights he’d found her there, staring out into the distance, or during the day, reading to her children.

As he lifted one of the pillows from the sofa, smelling it to see if her perfume lingered on them, he discovered a faint whiff of vanilla and rose. Tears began to flow more freely now that the shock was lessening. He slumped down into the sofa, crying in silence. No one dared bother him, except one.

He heard a tiny voice ask, "Papa, why are you crying?" Antonio turned around to see his seven-year-old daughter, Rosa. "What's wrong Papa? Where's Mama?"

His heart felt as if it would collapse upon hearing Rosa’s words. God was punishing him. Not only did he have a son without a father, but now he also had two daughters without a mother. He knew that today was the worst of his life. He sat his oldest daughter on his knee and told her about her mother's death.

*****

Bella was punished for days after the pond incident.
Neither she nor Miguel ever told their parents the whole truth about what had taken place. They had made a pact to keep it a secret. With that pact, their friendship was sealed forever.

The worst part of her punishment was that she wasn’t allowed to play with Miguel for an entire week, and had to be supervised by Pedro, her father, or her nanny at all times. She wasn’t allowed to visit the horses, and dessert was out of the question.

As for Miguel, he was sent to his room without being able to open his presents, or to have any food until he went to church and repented for bringing such disgrace upon his mother and their family.

A few days later, while Bella thumbed through her favorite picture book about horses, her father came into her room.

"Hello, Bella.”

Bella wondered why he was dressed in a tuxedo, his hair slicked back. She tried to act uninterested, but she couldn't remember ever seeing her daddy so dressed up. He looked like a prince out of one of her stories.

"Hi, Daddy," she muttered while she kept flipping through her book.

"I'm going out for dinner this evening. Pedro and Maria will be here to look after you."

"Oh." She was dying to know where he was going but she bit her lip, because she had to pretend she was still angry with him for punishing her so harshly.

"Would you like to know who I'm taking to dinner?"

"Uh uh."

"Are you sure? I think it might make you happy."

"Well, fine," she replied, knowing that the only people her papa ever took to dinner were Pedro, sometimes Antonio when he was visiting, and her.

"Miguel's mother, Señora Diaz."

Bella stared blankly at her father. "Oh," was all she could muster.

"I thought you'd be happy about this. I know you and Miguel are such good friends."

"Have a good time, Papa," she responded returning to her book once more.

Bella was so furious, that once her father left, she threw all the stuffed animals off her bed, and then took every single toy out of her chest, tossing them onto the ground nearly breaking off one of her doll's heads. When she was finished, she sat down in the middle of her mess and cried.

It was Pedro who found her. When he walked into her room, he stumbled over one of the toys strewn about. "What happened here?"

"A monster did it."

"What a bad monster. Why did this monster do this?"

"She was mad."

"And why was she so angry?"

"Because her papa went to dinner with a really big lady monster."

"Oh." Pedro tried to stifle a laugh. "Well, I see now. That is horrible."

"Yes, it is," Bella replied, placing her hands on her hips.

"Now, why do you think this lady monster is so bad, and what is your monster so afraid of?"

"See, she has a real nice little boy, and she’s so mean to him. And my monster says if she likes her papa and marries him, then she'll also be mean to her."

"I understand. Why don't you tell your monster not to worry so much. It takes a long time before papas ever decide to marry someone. Besides, they are only having dinner. Speaking of which, yours is ready. Tell your monster she needs to clean up her mess, so that you can come eat. I’ll tell you what, if you help her, I'll let you have dessert tonight."

"What kind of dessert?"

"Your favorite."

"Chocolate cake?"

"Of course."

"Fine. I'll be down in one minute." Bella watched Pedro leave her room. The chocolate cake interested her, but it didn't ease her mind about the matter of her father and Señora Diaz having dinner together.

She was not a stupid child. Although papas could take a long time before they married someone, Señora Diaz liked her father a lot, and Bella knew that her father sorely missed her mother.

“Don’t you worry, Mama, I won’t let her in your house,” she said aloud, “I promise.” Bella finished cleaning her room and headed downstairs to eat, vowing to herself and her mother that she would keep her promise.

The pain in Lydia’s abdomen was intense. She could feel that her panties were damp and the metallic stench from her blood burned her nostrils. Opening her eyes, she found herself shrouded in darkness, sounds of moans and cries surrounded her. In her state of mind, she was unable to determine whether these sounds were even human or not. She curled up into a fetal position, paralyzed with fear. Instinct told her that the life she’d been carrying inside her no longer existed. But she couldn’t understand why. The last thing she remembered doing was driving her car from her doctor's office.

Dr. Martín had congratulated her on the impending birth of her child. She’d smiled gleefully to herself as she left his office, jubilant at the prospect of being with Emilio forever. On her drive home, she’d had car trouble and pulled off to the side of the road. Two men stopped to help her. The next thing she remembered, one of them was putting a gun in her side. She pleaded for their mercy as they forced her into their car.

One of the men was very tall, with narrow eyes and a high-pitched voice. His hair was scraggly and hung in his face. She didn't get as good a glimpse at the other one, because once she was inside the back seat of their white Mercedes, they blindfolded her. But she did remember that the other one exuded a distinct odor of garlic and tequila.

The men laughed at their victim as she fought tooth and nail to escape, even though she knew there was no way out. She must have kicked one of them in the testicles when she was struggling to free her hands, because she heard him cry out in pain before he slapped her. After that, she felt a slight sting in her arm, and instantly everything became hazy. The only things she was able to remember were the sounds of what she thought were wounded animals.

The smell was antiseptic. She distinctly remembered a sharp, horrendous pain in her pelvic region. Trying to scream, she found she could make no sound. They were tearing her baby away from the safety of her womb.

Now she lay in a dark, dismal room, a mental fog blurring her senses. As she faded in and out of consciousness, she began to resign herself to the fact that this was not a nightmare, but a reality. Antonio must have done these horrible things to her. He must have found out about her affair with his brother and about their baby. She couldn’t imagine him capable of such an atrocity. If he could do this to her, what would he do to Emilio?

Lydia couldn’t help crying over her loss. The baby was gone, and she would probably never see Emilio again. She wanted out of this hellhole. Who was going to save her? She heard a door open, and a crack of light beamed through. Lydia couldn't make out who was inside her room and she started to perspire and shake. She closed her eyes, hoping that whoever it was might think she was asleep and go away.

"Hello, pretty lady. I am pleased that you could join us," the voice said.

In her distorted state, Lydia thought it sounded like a man, but there was a softness that made her believe that it might be a woman. All that she knew for certain was that whoever it was needed a shower badly. She felt the room shrink smaller than it already had been before the person walked in. He or she must have been quite large.