A few moments later, the ambulances arrived and took the two sisters away. Their father wanted to go with them, and Maria agreed to let him go but first told him that she would stop by the hospital later to ask him more questions and so they could give her a description of the assailants. The forensic team looked for fingerprints, especially on the doorknob on the front door. They didn’t find any. Apparently, the assailants had worn gloves. They didn’t find the shell either, but the bullet might possibly show up when they performed the autopsy on the victim. It hadn’t been a well-organized crime, but for now there were few clues.
At Maria’s request, Fernandez called the station and asked for information on robberies and incidents in the area, regardless of how small they were. Next, both continued to interview the neighbors. The only one who said he’d seen anything was the man across the street. He described how the thieves were dressed in gray hoodies, drove a dark blue getaway truck, and even some numbers on the license plate.
The two detectives were eating hamburger for lunch at a nearby McDonald’s when they received the information about criminal activities in the area. Mainly, the details were about a gang of young kids who had committed acts of vandalism, stolen radios and wheels off cars, but nothing violent. Headquarters sent them pictures of the gang members.
They went to the hospital to see the sisters and their father. Maria began by asking the widow to describe the boy who had tried to sell her chocolate. The woman thought hard.
“I saw him through the peephole. He had black hair across his forehead. He was very young. He even still had acne on his face!”
Next, Maria showed her the pictures on her phone one at a time. The woman looked at them carefully.
“No, that isn’t him,” she said four times. On the fifth, she exclaimed, “That’s him…that’s him, I’m certain.”
Maria asked her if the boy was one of the ones in hoodies that entered the house.
“I don’t think so because the three of them were taller, broader in the shoulders, a little older…this one is a young boy, and I can’t place him, but I have the impression I’ve seen him before.”
When Maria showed the pictures to Alicia, the other sister, who never saw the first boy, she immediately said:
“He works at Winn Dixie bagging groceries. He lives in the neighborhood.”
A few hours later, they brought Lorenzo Febles into the station. He was under eighteen, so they couldn’t question him without one of his parents present. They found his mother in the school cafeteria where she worked.
As soon as the woman arrived, the boy embraced her:
“Mami, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what they were going to do.”
They didn’t need to press too much for Lorenzo to confess. The three boys, who were older than him, belonged to a gang in a nearby neighborhood. He had not gone to school that morning because he didn’t want to take a test that he hadn’t studied for. He kept walking through the neighborhood until his mother left for work so that she wouldn’t know. They came up to him with a box of chocolates and told him to help them. They said that he should ask for two dollars for each box, but they were going to give him ten dollars for each house that opened the door. This had been the first house where the woman had said yes, and, when she went to get the money, the other boys pushed him out of the way and went in as soon as she opened the door. He didn’t like what was happening, and he took off running.
Fernandez doubted the story, but Maria believed it. First, the boy didn’t have a single scrape on his arms or his clothing and, second, there was something in the mother’s stern face, in the boy’s distressed tone that convinced her. Either way, they would have to wait until they could confirm his version of the events. Lorenzo assured them that he didn’t know the boys’ names except he’d heard one of them called Manazas, and he knew where they typically hung out.
Before dark, they had arrested all three. Maria and Fernandez went back to the station to fill out the reports that would be key in order for the district attorney to press charges. Beforehand, they stopped by to see Dr. John Erwin, but the coroner hadn’t yet begun the autopsy and would have to get back to them. Finally, they learned that they had extracted a 45-caliber bullet from the left lung. It had pierced his heart. They immediately ordered tests to see whether the bullet had been shot with the weapon found in a trash can halfway between the crime scene and the house where the three gang members lived.
It wasn’t until Friday afternoon that they were able to turn in all the details to the district attorney so they could proceed with the case. Maria wondered whether she should discuss the trip to Tampa with Keppler or wait until after the weekend. She didn’t have an option. When she went to his office the assistant told her that he’d left early and wasn’t returning until Monday. Maybe it’ll do me good to rest a little over the weekend and reflect on how to get closer to the girl, Maria thought, and she invited Fernandez out for a few beers.
“Two heads are better than one,” she said. “Let’s plan everything out for next week.”
Fernandez accepted with enthusiasm.
Chapter 26
Days 34–36—Saturday through Monday,
December 5 through 7, 2015
Maria hadn’t left the house all weekend. She was glad that David had gone to spend the weekend away with his kids, and that her father believed the little white lie that she’d told him—that she was in bed with a migraine. She did suffer from those terrible headaches, and, even though she hadn’t recently had one of those episodes that made her lie down and close all the windows to keep out the light, she still wasn’t completely herself. She felt an increasing stress regarding the idea of going to speak with Alexis Smith. If she didn’t turn out to be Gladys Mercedes, the visit would be brief, and they’d have to keep on looking. However, if it were the same person, would she know her own true identity? Would she agree to a DNA test? Had she led a happy life with her husband and young child, and was Maria about to turn it all upside down?
On Sunday afternoon, she showered, fixed herself up, took a bottle of whiskey from her bar, hid it in a gift bag with two disposable plastic glasses, and went to see Joaquin del Roble. She found him sitting in a chair with a blanket on his lap reading. He tried to stand up when he saw her come in.
“Please, don’t get up.”
She approached him and extended her hand, which he kissed in that gallant gesture that moved Maria so much.
“I should’ve called first,” she apologized.
“On the contrary, this way I’m surprised, and the pleasure of seeing you is doubled.”
“Tripled…because of what I’ve brought you,” she said and showed him the bag that she’d hidden.
After they spent a few minutes enjoying their drinks in silence, Don Joaquin said to her:
“You’re worried… Can I help with something?”
It was then that she realized that, in fact, she’d grown close to that simple yet wise little old man and come to rely on his advice. She smiled at him.
“You know me well. Yes, I am worried. Listen, I’m dedicated to solving crimes, and I believe that I do it well. The toughest part is always telling the family. It’s a hard moment, just like all those times when you have to ask them questions. But, at the same time, they know that you’re looking for justice on behalf of their loved ones.”
“And now?”
“Well, it’s a different case, but I wanted to ask you a question. How did you feel when your great-nephew arrived and then later when he betrayed you? I know that you’ve told me before.”
“Look, Detective, blood is blood. I didn’t have any relatives left in the world, and actually he was a joy.”
“Do you think it would’ve been the same if you’d been married or if you’d had kids?”
Del Roble thought about it for a few moments.
“I don’t know, but I thi
nk so. There’s a difference between the family that one raises, and the ties one has with parents and siblings, especially if they’re already dead and forgotten. My mother always said that, and I didn’t understand her back then.”
“And when you learned that he’d betrayed you?”
“I already told you that I forgave him a long time ago, in part because it’s hard to be angry with the dead and because pleasant memories linked me to him, and also because I thought he was good and the circumstances led him to behave in a way that was untrue to himself.”
Maria slept more peacefully that night. She kept clinging to the phrase “blood is blood.” The first thing the next morning, even before Fernandez arrived, she went to see Keppler, brought him up to date on the investigation, and told him that she and her colleague needed to go to Tampa because it was too delicate a matter to be placed in the hands of the local police who were unfamiliar with the case.
“We can go by car if the budget is a problem. Larry, I want to solve this before the end of the year.”
Keppler authorized them to fly and to rent a car in Tampa.
“Be careful, Mariita, it’s a complicated situation,” her boss advised.
When Fernandez arrived, she brought him up to date. They needed to think about what would be the best time to knock on Alexis’s door and whether they wanted her husband to be home or not. She had already confirmed that the young woman worked as a teacher at a high school and that she usually dropped off and picked up her daughter at a house where a woman took care of her in the afternoons. They tended to get home around four in the afternoon. Her husband worked at a real estate firm and didn’t have a fixed schedule, but he was usually home by six or six thirty, although sometimes he’d go back out.
The plane took off at noon, and by four thirty in the afternoon, they were knocking on the door of the young woman who might be Gladys Elena Lazo’s missing baby.
The woman didn’t open the door until they showed her their police badges. They assured her she didn’t have anything to fear, that they just wanted to ask her a few questions. They maintained a professional yet friendly tone.
She finally let them in. Maria immediately realized that they were not dealing with the girl they were searching for. She didn’t look anything like her, and she was a little older.
“Are you Alexis Smith, married to Nicholas, and do you have a daughter?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Do you know them?”
“No, and I’ve never heard their names.”
“Does a couple with a young daughter live on this street?”
“There are a lot of young families who live in the neighborhood, but I don’t know many people. I just moved here recently with my mother.”
“And who did you buy the house from?”
“Look, why don’t you tell me what this is about?”
“It’s complicated…we won’t ask you any more questions. Only who were the previous owners?”
“An older couple. He died and the lady wanted to live in a smaller place, in one of those retirement communities.”
“Did you meet her? About how old was she?”
“Yes, I met her on the day of the closing. She must have been about eighty.”
Maria and Fernandez left the house deflated and greatly disillusioned. They were convinced that they had found the baby who had been missing for twenty-three years, but the lead that seemed to have been so sure turned out to be false.
They returned to the hotel devastated. They felt like everything they had worked for had been in vain. Where had they gone wrong? They spent the rest of the evening speculating where they had made a mistake and how all the doors could have possibly slammed closed.
They had a drink at the hotel bar. Maria could only eat a bowl of soup. She felt a lump in her throat, a great sense of frustration.
“What are we going to do now?”
The question was as much for Fernandez as it was for her.
“Sleep,” her colleague answered with pragmatism. “In the morning maybe we’ll see things more clearly,” he said to cheer her up.
Maria hardly slept a wink. She felt that same typical uneasiness associated with being on the brink of solving a case. It seemed absurd because she felt more lost now than when she had opened those two boxes in the station conference room about a month or so ago.
Chapter 27
Day 37—Tuesday, December 8, 2015
By eight o’clock in the morning, Maria had showered and dressed. She went to turn on her laptop and realized that she hadn’t charged it. She was about to call Fernandez when he knocked on the door to her room. He had two Starbucks lattes. Maria almost hugged him.
“Do you have your iPad?”
Fernandez took it out of his briefcase.
“Do another search for Nicholas and Alexis’s property in Tampa.”
A few minutes later, they discovered their mistake. Maria had copied down the wrong address, the one on the line right below the Smiths’ property. Both were from Tampa, but in different neighborhoods.
The day seemed excruciatingly long waiting for four o’clock to roll around so they could head down to the couple’s house, and this time they were a lot more anxious.
When a woman opened the door, neither Fernandez nor Duquesne had any doubt. She looked so much like Elena Lozano that it was impossible for them not to be sisters.
They identified themselves, and, without letting them in, she told them that it would be better if they returned when her husband was home.
That’s when Maria spoke to her in Spanish.
“It’s related to your mother, who we know died a few years ago…”
Alexis opened the door and gestured for them to have a seat. She offered them water, a soda, or lemonade, but they didn’t want anything. Just like her mother, polite… Maria thought. She could tell Alexis was nervous and thought that accepting something to drink might give her a second to gather herself, so Maria said:
“Actually, if it isn’t too much trouble, I think I would appreciate something to drink and you probably would too, right Fernandez?”
They waited quietly, looking around at the place while the young woman prepared the drinks in the kitchen. Maria saw the graduation picture with her daughter who must have been about three or four at the time. She also saw a wedding picture of the young woman, but none of Soledad.
When all three were seated, Maria began speaking in English. She thought it was the more neutral language and the easiest one for all three of them to hide their emotions.
“So, your mother’s name has surfaced in an investigation, and there are a few things that remain unclear, and we think you can help us with that. Soledad has already passed away and no harm can come to her, nor you, but you could help us solve a different case.”
“When you were young, did you live in the New York area?”
“Yes, when I was very little. I wasn’t even in school yet.”
“And that’s where your father died?”
Alexis seemed a bit unsettled.
“Yes, in an accident. I don’t remember much about him. Like I said, I was pretty young.”
“But your name wasn’t Alexis back then, it was Soledad. Why did you change your name?”
The woman appeared more and more nervous.
“My name was Soledad Alexandra, but everyone called me Alexis. When I got married, I took my husband’s last name, and I also took the opportunity to change my first name to the one everyone called me anyway.”
“Did your mother tell you anything before she died?”
“Of course, she told me many things. I don’t know what you mean.”
“If she told you anything about your life that you didn’t know, anything about your birth…”
Alexis looked like she was about to burst into tears
.
Finally, in a quivering voice, she said:
“She told me she wasn’t my birth mother, that I was adopted.”
“And that’s all?”
“Yes…”
“And have you tried to look for your real mother?”
“I’ve thought about that many times, but I haven’t made up my mind.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother was very good to me. She loved me a lot. She lived for me.”
“If she told you before she died that you were adopted, maybe she wanted you to look for your parents. Don’t you think?”
“Yes…maybe…well…”
“We can help you.”
The young woman raised her gaze that had been glued to the floor up to now and asked in a shaky voice:
“Do you know who she is? Is she looking for me?”
Maria wasn’t sure what to say, but Fernandez knew it was better not to rush it.
“No, we don’t know, but we have access to many cases of women looking for their children after they gave them up for adoption…or, in some cases, some children are missing or kidnapped.”
Alexis protested.
“That is not the case with me. My mother did not kidnap me. She saved my life…”
The Miracle of Saint Lazarus Page 14
