by C. I. Lopez
Sosa offered to drive the detective to the scene, which was still being processed by his team. They drove for two hours down the mountain to the highway.
As he approached the wreckage, Mendoza caught the stench of burned flesh, which made him involuntarily release his breakfast. Once the detective was under control, the young officer showed him the remains of what had been a taxi. The car was barely recognizable by its size and apparent make, pushed into a small ravine, and compacted by another vehicle.
“This massive truck is only partially burned at the point of contact with the car,” Lt. Sosa said. “The collision must have burst the gas tank of the smaller vehicle, causing it to explode. There was no indication of anyone having been inside the 18-wheeler at the time of the accident.” He raised an eyebrow.
The fire had been so hot that the truck’s heavy steel looked like melted plastic. The rest of the large vehicle remained intact. Eerily, still sitting back against the windshield, was the only part of the hood that wasn’t burned. It was the detached and unharmed plate that held the brand insignia of the truck; Peterbilt.
“It’s a dreadful accident, officer,” Detective Mendoza said. “What makes you link it to organized crime?” He was looking around the entire scene.
“It has the Modus Operandi of organized crime written all over it,” Sosa said. “There was no driver in the truck, a rod was holding down the accelerator, it had no license plate on the trailer, nor any registration found on the vehicle. All of this relates to acts previously committed by the local organized crime.”
Mendoza nodded as if being told something new, but any policeman worth his wages would recognize the signs.
Lt. Sosa continued, “The brand name of the truck is also a trademark tool that the local mafia prefers to use as a means to obtain revenge on the road without leaving a witness. These particular trucks are used to cause the complete destruction of a vehicle, making it almost impossible for the police to identify any passengers.”
The detective stood transfixed, staring at the total annihilation of the car. “What does this have to do with my precinct?”
Lt. Sosa handed him a plastic evidence-bag containing items obtained by his team. In the bag were a few pieces of charred material, apparently dropped or thrown not far from the wreck.
Sosa said, “Near the tire tread of what the forensics team determined was a third vehicle were small vehicle parts. The pieces identify the car to be a Mercedes Benz. This is also a brand favored by the local organized crime. It seems the Mercedes suffered minor damage, but it was able to drive off.”
“I still don’t see what it has to do with me.”
“The reason your district may be involved, Detective Mendoza, is that the items found near the Mercedes tire marks may belong to someone in your district. The reason for the package found at the scene is unknown. Inside the bag you now hold in your hands, you will see the remains of a scorched blanket. It shows the carefully embroidered name of Yasmin Samudio, a name identified as a resident of your precinct.”
At the sight of the blanket with Yasmin’s name, Mendoza’s knees almost gave way. He knew the family well and had been the bearer of bad news only five years earlier. He had reported the death of Jacinto, Yasmin and Eva’s father. He was killed in a work-related accident at Jose Montenegro’s ranch.
Jose and Jacinto, the deceased, had both been young men at the time and rodeo partners since teenagers. Gazing into the plastic bag with the charred blanket stitched with Yasmin’s name, Mendoza hoped there would be an explanation. He knew that Yasmin recently announced her upcoming engagement to Federico, Jose Montenegro’s son. The teenage girl was considered the most beautiful girl in the village and was very excited about the approaching events.
There had to be some mistake.
*
Eva awoke to the inconceivable thought that she was alone in the room she had always shared with her younger sister. Although she was used to Yasmin’s early rising, her instincts alerted her that something was wrong. Before she could register it in her mind, Eva was jarred by loud banging on their front door.
Still wearing her pajamas, Eva looked out the window to locate her mother but saw her hanging clothes in the courtyard, far in the back of the house. She would no doubt be humming to herself as usual.
Assured that her mother couldn’t hear the door, Eva pulled on a dress to go herself. Eva realized that Yasmin’s bed was not only empty, but her favorite blanket was also gone. It was usually on her bed. Eva’s curly dark hair formed a halo around her pretty face as she descended the stairs to find out who had the bad manners to come calling so early in the morning.
“Stop that banging!” she shouted. “I’m coming!” It was unlikely that her voice would be heard outside. Expecting some eager vendor selling his wares, she didn’t hurry, sure that she would be sending him on his way. Eva’s rosy face turned pale, and she was rendered speechless at the sight of Detective Mendoza, the local police officer, accompanied by an officer from the National Guard.
“Hi, Eva,” Detective Mendoza said. He could see from her solemn expression that the girl was remembering the reason for his last visit. It wasn’t going to make this one any more comfortable.
Momentarily stunned, Eva remained standing by the door, silent and staring.
“Eva, I am Detective Mendoza, and this is Lieutenant Santos Sosa, from the National Guard. We need to speak to your mother. Is Narcisa here?”
“Hello, Detective. I remember you.” Eva turned to address the other officer. “How do you do, Officer Sosa?” The shy girl accepted the proffered hand.
Sosa took her hand in his, holding it longer than necessary.
Eva blushed at the powerful sensation she felt when he looked into her eyes.
Mendoza interrupted the momentary spell. “Eva, we need to speak to your mother. Is Narcisa at home?”
“Yes, Sir. She’s in the courtyard. Please come in and sit down while I go get her.” Eva opened the door to allow them into the living room.
The pair entered and closed the door behind them, but neither sat down.
Eva turned and ran through the house to the protected courtyard, understanding that there was no point in asking questions, but feeling a foreboding from the unexpected early visit.
*
Narcisa had been concerned with Yasmin’s malaise, which everyone had labeled as stomach flu. Since Narcisa first noticed Federico’s interest in her youngest daughter, she had set her mind on their marriage. She was humming to herself, satisfied that her visit to the witch the night before meant that Yasmin would marry Federico soon.
A widow had to look after her own wellbeing, she often thought. She felt her own destiny and position in the village would be enriched by Yasmin’s marriage to Federico, and that put a smile on her face.
Her musing was interrupted by Eva’s tremulous calls. With a tear-streaked face, Eva grabbed her mother. “Mother, Detective Mendoza, and another officer are here to talk with you. Please hurry!”
As if waking from a trance, at the mention of Detective Mendoza, Narcisa dropped the clothes basket she was holding. She had a flashback to his previous visit to their house. With her hair undone and trailing behind her like a swarm of angry termites, she hurried to the living room. She wrapped her hands in her white apron to prevent the officers from seeing her tremble. Immediately upon entering the living room and without greeting, she asked Detective Mendoza what his business was at her house.
“Narcisa.” Detective Mendoza came forward and reached for her hands, unfolding them from her apron and holding them warmly in his own. “I think you had better sit down.”
“I don’t need to sit down for whatever you have to tell me,” Narcisa said tersely, defying the detective, and pulling her hands away from his.
“I really think you ought to sit down, Narcisa,” Detective Mendoza insisted.
“Oh, for God’s sake, just tell me what you came to say and get out of my house!” She remained standing.
Lieutenant Sosa said, “We think your daughter, Yasmin, might have been involved in an accident.”
“What do you mean, an accident?” Narcisa asked sternly. “That’s preposterous. Yasmin is still in bed.” She turned. “Eva, go get Yasmin from her room.”
Eva dropped to her knees, her head in her hands, unable to hold back the flow of tears.
“Eva, go get Yasmin.” Narcisa’s voice shook with anger and fear.
Between sobs, Eva managed to say that Yasmin wasn’t in her room when she woke up just a few minutes earlier and that she wasn’t in the kitchen with Ofelia either. She had checked as she passed the kitchen on her way to the courtyard.
“I don’t believe you.” Narcisa started to panic. “I don’t believe any of you.”
The two officers waited, looking at her. They had experience in these situations.
“I realize this comes as quite a shock, Narcisa,” Mendoza said. “Why don’t you sit down and let us tell you what we know?” He tried to lead Narcisa to a chair but without success. “There was a bad accident on the Pan-American Highway between a taxi cab and an out of control truck. We have reason to suspect Yasmin may have been in the taxi. There is little left of the car but mangled wreckage and ashes. We are investigating the incident.”
“What does any of this have to do with Yasmin?” Narcisa was confused.
“Technically, we can’t say Yasmin was a passenger in the taxi, but we have reason to believe that she might have been,” Mendoza said.
Lt. Sosa said, “We found ashes in the front seat, which we assume belong to the driver, but the forensics team hasn’t been able to reach the rear seat yet.”
Narcisa gasped. “I still don’t understand. What makes you think Yasmin was involved?” She trembled at the macabre description the officer had so bluntly shared with her. “My daughter never travels in a taxi cab at that time of the morning without my knowing about it. She’s fifteen years old and planning her engagement to Federico Montenegro in a few weeks. Why would she be in a taxi on the Pan American Highway?”
“Narcisa,” Mendoza said, “a bundle was found near the scene, mostly destroyed by the fire. We found this blanket, which has her name embroidered on it.” Mendoza handed the distraught mother the tagged evidence bag containing the scorched remains. “Do you recognize these items as belonging to Yasmin?”
The two officers watched in silence as realization and horror dawned in Narcisa’s dark eyes.
She clutched what was left of the blanket, which she had embroidered herself for Yasmin’s fifteenth birthday.
The officers watched as Narcisa fell to her knees. All of her arrogance and pride drained from her, like air from a punctured balloon. The loss of a lifetime, the kind of horror that never ends.
Detective Mendoza bent to help her up by holding her elbow. “Please, Narcisa, take a seat. I know this is a terrible shock for you.”
She struggled into the nearest dining-room chair, folding her arms on the table, dropping her head into them, bawling like a neglected baby.
The officers waited in silence for twenty minutes for her to calm down.
Lt. Sosa said, “It is possible Yasmin might have escaped from the vehicle before impact, or that these items were there for some other reason.” He paused and squatted close to the woman, speaking softly. “We want you to know that we are doing everything possible to find out what happened. Could you tell us why Yasmin’s bag and blanket might have been in that location, where she was going, and why? It would help us understand what might have happened.”
“I didn’t even know she was gone. My Yasmin, how could she do this to me?” A sobbing Narcisa pointed at Eva. “Ask her. She seems to know what’s going on here better than I do.” Narcisa stood and looked prepared to strike her older daughter.
Lt. Sosa quickly intervened, helping Narcisa back into her chair, where she collapsed without resistance, defeated by her grief.
Frightened, Eva stood up from her position on the floor and ran to the back of the house.
Mendoza gave Sosa a meaningful look, and with a barely perceptible nod, he encouraged Sosa to follow the girl.
Officer Sosa followed Eva into the kitchen, where he saw her embraced by the comforting arms of a crying woman. The woman seemed aware of the recent news and was deeply affected.
The pleasant aromas of food cooking in the kitchen reminded the officer that he’d skipped breakfast. Nevertheless, he put food out of his mind when he caught a look exchanged between the two women. His intuition told him that Yasmin’s secret laid with these two, but this wasn’t the time to pursue the subject.
“Did you hear?” Eva said.
“Yes, child, I heard everything,” Ofelia said, holding Eva protectively against her bosom.
Sosa approached the two women slowly, not wanting to disturb the scene, but was drawn to Eva as if by an invisible magnet. He felt such tenderness for the distraught young woman.
When Ofelia saw him advancing, her expression turned serious, and in a protective move she gently moved Eva away from the officer.
Ofelia had sworn to protect Yasmin’s secret to her grave, and she intended to do just that. Not even Eva knew what had led to Yasmin’s departure. These thoughts were in Ofelia’s mind, but she would not break her vow of silence. Nothing would be gained by telling the truth now, even if Yasmin were not alive. Her reputation would remain intact in life or in death.
“You must be Ofelia,” Santos said, extending a hand toward her. “Mendoza mentioned you were nanny to both sisters. My name is Santos Sosa.”
“Hello, Officer Sosa.” Ofelia accepted the man’s outstretched hand, giving him a firm handshake. “These girls are like my very own.”
“Eva,” Sosa spoke directly to the girl who still stood crying in Ofelia’s arms.
Eva turned to the officer who looked directly into her eyes. He bent at the waist to be at the same level as her. “I promise you that I will not stop looking for your sister until I find out what happened to her.” Unconsciously, he moved a loose strand of Eva’s hair, touching her cheek as he did so.
The tender tone in Lt. Sosa’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by Ofelia, who gave him a stern look.
The man rejoined his colleague in the living room. Sosa was shaken by his unexpected attraction to Eva at a moment like this.
Mendoza had been trying to calm the distraught Narcisa when he saw Sosa return ready to make their exit. Before leaving the house, Detective Mendoza asked Narcisa if there was someone he should call for her.
Narcisa shot up from her chair, her face stained with tears, and livid with indignation. She set her steely eyes, dark as river pebbles on Mendoza. “Yes, there is. Please call Don Jose Montenegro and his son Federico to come to this house at once.”
PART ONE
Chapter 5
Guilt
Detective Mendoza remembered how the families of Don Jose and Narcisa’s had been linked for generations. He wasn’t looking forward to making that awkward call, but it was his duty. Afterward, he turned toward the anxious Narcisa to announce that Don Jose and Federico were on their way. “I will stay here until they arrive.”
Officer Sosa waited outside on the porch to intercept the men and provide them with the known details before they entered the house.
While standing on Narcisa’s porch, Lt. Sosa brought Don Jose and his son up to date.
In a state of complete disbelief, Don Jose went directly to hug Narcisa, fighting away tears himself.
The seventeen-year-old Federico almost fainted when he heard what the detective said. Trying to make some sense of what he’d heard, Federico mentally recounted every conversation he and Yasmin had during the last day they were together. He was looking for a clue as to why she would take a taxi at that time of the morning. Federico could think of nothing that would indicate a desire on her part to go anywhere. Actually, she seemed as eager to see him on their scheduled day, as he was.
What if someone told her they’d se
en him entering the bordello? He wondered if that would have upset her into leaving. The accident they talked about occurred on the main highway to the capital. Where could she be going? Confused, and in denial that Yasmin could be gone forever, Federico wondered what could have driven her to run away.
Federico was struck suddenly with the realization that Yasmin was gone, and the two families were gathered in the dining room. It was just as they had done after Jacinto died, and after his mother’s death. This time, like before, they were pondering what they had heard, giving it time to sink in.
The silence was broken by an excited Eva who ran into the room. She was holding a letter from Yasmin, which she had just discovered in their shared bedroom. It had been leaning against the mirror on their dresser and was written in her sister’s handwriting. The envelope was addressed to her mother, Narcisa.
“I just found this, on Yasmin’s dresser, Mother,” Eva yelled, breathless with anticipation. “In my rush to open the door this morning, I didn’t notice it.”
Narcisa held the envelope but was unable to open it with her shaking hands. She handed it to Don Jose. “Please, read it.”
Don Jose read aloud,
“My dear family, Federico and Don Jose,
Please forgive me for what I am about to do. I am afraid that my understanding, in particular of men, has of necessity been limited. Please do not blame Federico for my actions, for the blame is all mine. I love him with all my heart and wish to be his wife as soon as we are allowed.
In fairness, I must say I have tried, and I did strive to be a chaste and dutiful daughter. The truth is that I cannot stay by Federico’s side and control my own sinful desires for him. I repeat ... I have tried, and I wish it were within my power to make him happy in his heart, while he makes no demands on me.
It is because of my own uncontrolled passions that I have made arrangements to stay at a convent at an undisclosed location. I wish to pray for the strength to wait until our marriage in a chaste manner.
