by C. I. Lopez
One last look in the mirror brought a smile to her lips. She really did look like a street kid without a care in the world, instead of the sophisticated drug dealer’s wife she had become. A thought that brought disgust to her mind. Yasmin did not even recognize herself in this getup. She didn’t look like the country girl she’d been, nor like the sophisticated wife she had become, and that made her smile.
Yasmin almost wished Tomas could see her now. Not only would he not recognize her, but he wouldn’t give her a second look. The earphones added to the effect. Satisfied with her appearance, she rushed from the restroom carrying her duffel bag and a big purse.
The ticket woman looked at her distastefully, wondering why young people ruined their looks by dressing so sloppily. She blamed foreign influence on the TV. “Where to?” the ticket lady enquired indifferently with a bored expression.
“When does the next bus leave for San Felix?” Yasmin asked, keeping her face down.
“If you run, you can catch it over on Slot 2. That’ll be $5.00, please.”
Ignoring the woman’s penetrating stare and sharp tone, Yasmin paid for her ticket. She ran to Slot 2, gratefully getting aboard the bus minutes before it would pull away. A sigh of relief escaped the girl as she managed the first phase of her escape. She made her way to space at the back of the bus, to be as inconspicuous as possible.
The coach was already starting, and no one else was getting on, so she placed her duffel bag on the aisle seat, curling herself in the window seat. She pulled the window curtain shut to keep the light of the sun away from her face. It was also to prevent being noticed by anyone who might recognize her.
After reaching the town of San Felix, Yasmin boarded another bus to another small town, each one closer to her home although, not in a straight line. Many kilometers later, Yasmin glanced at her digital watch and noticed it was now three-thirty. Pedro should be starting to wonder why she was taking so long with her shopping this time.
Yasmin wondered how long Pedro would wait before going into the shop to look for her. She was trying to determine the actions of Pedro and Tomas’ guards back at the estate. Will they go searching for me first, or will they call Tomas right away to report me missing? She believed they would wait for Tomas’ orders. The guards in that house never did anything without waiting for Tomas’ consent.
Regardless, she knew Tomas would start a massive search to find her. Her plan of travel and her disguise would give her time, although doubts churned constantly. She had not altogether escaped her prison. It seemed more appropriate to say she’d simply exchanged one prison for another since fear would keep her shackled.
Turning on her music player, with earphones fixed in place, Yasmin listened to the same song that was playing in the taxi, on the day she met Tomas. The irony did not escape her.
*
By four o’clock, Pedro was still waiting in the restaurant with one of his cronies, not really listening to his chatter any longer. He started checking the time every few minutes, getting concerned over not having seen Mrs. Chacon since she went into the dressing room. She was usually finished with shopping before this time.
“Pedro, why do you keep looking at your watch?” one of the guys asked.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. He jumped from his chair to run across the street into the boutique, leaving a questioning companion gazing after him.
Rebecca recognized him, greeting him at the door. “Did your Boss Lady forget something?”
Without answering her question, he asked in an agitated state, “Where is she?”
“I’m sorry?” Rebecca said in a confused voice.
Pedro pushed her aside and walked into the dressing room, scattering the scantily dressed women. They ran screaming from the place, still holding dresses against them to cover their underwear-clad bodies.
“May I help you, Sir?” Rebecca asked Pedro in her sternest voice. “What is wrong with you?” The boutique owner tried to get him out of the room.
Not caring, he opened each vestibule and searched through the clothes left there by the petrified women.
“Where is Yasmin?” he inquired, his eyes sweeping over every visible inch of the store. “I’m looking for Mrs. Chacon. Is she in this building?”
“No, Pedro, she left some time ago, with you, I presumed.”
“Where did she go?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. Customers don’t tell me where they’re going.”
“Did you see her leave?”
“Well, no, I didn’t. I have been rather busy this afternoon, and Yasmin was in the vestibule trying on all the new arrivals. When I had a moment to look around, I noticed she’d left. I was surprised she didn’t buy anything, but I assumed she would be back another day to make her selection.”
Pedro reached for the phone in Rebecca’s office and dialed. “Chilo, we’ve got a problem,” he said into the phone. “Mrs. Chacon has disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Chilo’s voice boomed over the phone speaker. He was in charge when Tomas was out of town. “What in the hell do you mean disappeared? Like into thin air?”
“She told me she’d be a while shopping and that I should pick up lunch at the restaurant across the street. It’s where I usually keep an eye on her, but I got worried about not seeing her and came to the shop looking. She’s not here.”
“Weren’t you the hell supposed to be watching her?”
“I watched her go into the dressing room with an armful of clothes, but I didn’t see her come out. It’s not like her, we’ve done this a hundred times.”
“You stupid bastard. I thought you knew what your job was.”
“I did nothing different. I’ve done it many times before.”
“Then we damn well don’t have a problem, Pedro, but you sure as hell do. You get paid to watch her, so nothing like this happens. You fucked up.”
“I was following the same routine I’ve followed for the past three years. What are we going to do, Chilo?”
“I don’t know what you are going to do, but I’m calling the boss. If I were you, Pedro, I’d pack a suitcase and get the fuck out of Panama, just as damn fast as you can, and don’t look back.”
“It wasn’t my fault. Mr. Chacon can’t blame me. Maybe his wife was kidnapped by that rival gang?”
“Right in front of your eyes in that classy boutique, and no one noticed? Right. Not only will Mr. Chacon blame you, but he’ll probably kill you if something’s happened to her. Have you forgotten those others who created problems for Mr. Chacon, not to mention at least a dozen who got in his way? Our boss knows how to make people disappear.”
Pedro went straight to the bank, drew out his savings, and ditched the shiny limo. Back at his tiny apartment, he grabbed his passport and packed clothes to catch the first bus to the airport, and then he’d head on to Costa Rica or Nicaragua. He figured if he could get to Nicaragua and get lost among the hordes of people, Chacon would never find him.
*
It took Chilo a couple of hours to locate Tomas, and he dreaded like hell to be the one to tell him, but it was his duty since he was left in charge. He just hoped Tomas wouldn’t take his hostility out on him since Pedro was probably already on his way out of the country.
“Disappeared?” Tomas’ voice screamed from the phone, followed by a string of expletives. “Disappeared from where? Can’t any of you sons of bitches do anything right?”
Chilo winced at the anger in Tomas’ voice and reluctantly repeated the story told by Pedro.
“What in the hell have you done about it?” Tomas demanded, rising impatience seeming to reach through the telephone from Colombia to Panama, quickly becoming a dangerous rage. Tomas’ breathing sounded hard and ragged.
Chilo knew from the sound that the man was in a killing mood. “I sent some of the guys out with her picture to scout the places near the shop where she was before she disappeared, and I told them to hit the ticket tellers at the bus station. I also checked car rental plac
es, and the airline and nothing has been booked under Mrs. Chacon’s name.”
There was a silent pause. “What does Pedro have to say for himself?”
“About all he said was that she had disappeared.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“I can’t, Mr. Chacon. He is missing too. The guys located the limo, but Pedro wasn’t with it. He wasn’t at his apartment either.”
“I want that son of a bitch found, and you know what to do when you find him.”
“What about Mrs. Chacon? What do you want me to do?”
“You find her, but I’ll deal with her myself. I don’t want the police called in. We will handle the matter ourselves. Check pawnshops to see if she pawned jewelry. She had to have money to get out of town. I never gave her cash since I have charge accounts established at the place she frequents. She can’t get far without money, so check out every house around the boutique.
“Yes, Sir. I’ll get the boys on it.”
“Chilo, you get off your ass and find her, do you understand?” Tomas’ voice was suddenly calm, but underlying the calmness was a deadly rage. “I’ll be back on the earliest plane I can get, and blood is going to flow if she’s not found by the time I arrive home.”
PART THREE
Chapter 2
Family Reunion
Everyone in the village in the mountains over five years old remembered the case that had been the talk of the town for months. The story of the pretty teenager who was going to marry Federico Montenegro, and she disappeared. The gossip and speculations did not abate until her mother died, and out of respect, the subject was hushed.
The rumor was that Federico shut himself in his room for months, coming out only to eat and use the bathroom, his face red from crying. It was said that at night, his father could hear his son sobbing and calling out her name.
The truth was that Federico gave up learning to be a rancher after Yasmin’s disappearance, and for months he did nothing but play his clarinet and mourn Yasmin.
Don Jose was getting discouraged about his son ever wanting to be a ranch owner. He sent him to a university in San Francisco, USA, to study what Federico really liked; architecture. At the university, Don Jose’s son excelled in his studies. He began to make new friends, seemingly having put behind him his constant yearning for Yasmin, the girl who’d vanished.
After a year, Don Jose was struck with a heart attack, which forced him to leave his ranch and move to an apartment in town to be near the medical care he needed.
Upon hearing of his father’s illness, Federico returned to be with him. The young man stopped caring about what he wanted to do. His dream of becoming an architect fell by the wayside after his father passed away.
Federico hired out most of the work at the ranch and kept his father’s apartment in town. When Don Carlos, president of the local bank, retired, Federico was offered the job, and he accepted the position. He was known as a bright young man, and his father had many influential friends who knew Federico. They considered him as honest a man as anyone had known. Thus, he had no trouble getting the board of directors to approve him right away.
In the interim, the young man knew the ranch had meant everything to his father, and being his only child, he kept the farm going. It was rumored that Federico spent much of his free time using his architectural ability, remodeling the grand old farmhouse.
He’d also been known to date a few females, failing to develop an attachment to any of them. Sometimes he wondered what was wrong with him that he couldn’t get excited about any of the women he dated. He supposed it had something to do with the mentality of a small town. The girls would grow up, get married, have babies, and then raise their children to start the process all over again. Something seemed to be missing in such a lifestyle that presented the same dull outlook that his banking position did.
The new bank president had been spending time lately with a young woman who went by the name of Violeta, and that was only because she actively pursued him. Left up to him, he probably never would have gone out with her again following their first date.
She wasn’t what he wanted in a woman. Yes, she was pretty, but her other attributes were sadly lacking. The fact that she aggressively made herself available to him in bed, created a sort of open meeting ground between them. Violeta was the one who planned all their intimate get-togethers. She offered, and he took. It proved an uncomplicated arrangement until she began reaching for something more permanent.
The first time Violeta casually mentioned marriage, Federico was shocked, never suspecting she might have placed more significance on the relationship than what he had. As far as Federico was concerned, they were merely two people spending time together. Her mention of marriage, however, was a cold awakening, like ice water dashed in his face.
“Violeta,” he said. “I’m sorry, but you’ve misjudged things between us. Marriage is the furthest thing from my mind. I think we need to end this before anyone gets hurt.” He was gentle but blunt.
She offered no argument, allowing his statement to go in one ear and out the other. Things continued between them as before.
Federico knew, however, that beneath Violeta’s acceptance, she hoped to change his mind. He also knew that it would never happen.
Out of all the women he’d dated, some had been very worthy candidates for serious relationships. Yet, he always found something lacking in them. His detachment from any kind of emotional involvement left him with an emptiness that seemed to gnaw at him steadily. Only when he actively dealt with projects using his hands, such as remodeling the farmhouse, did Federico find meaning in his life. It kept his thoughts from bouncing around with his many dissatisfactions following the loss of Yasmin.
*
It was unfortunate that Yasmin’s arrival in town did not go unnoticed. This was despite her efforts to disguise herself as one of the many tourists who visited the area. Her hair was cut short in a sophisticated style, and she wore expensive clothes. She also wore a wide-brimmed hat and large sunglasses to further avoid being recognized.
Eduardo, was a young man who spent most of his time at the local cantina near the bus stop. He thought there was something familiar about the young woman who exited the bus station, but he wouldn’t have been able to tell one way or the other, if the woman had taken the taxi to the hotel, as tourists always did. Instead, he watched her walk down the steep trail that led directly to Narcisa’s house. If he was right, his devious mind was sure that there were two people in town who would be very interested in who had returned.
Although the young man couldn’t be absolutely sure, the new arrival looked like a girl who’d rebuffed Eduardo to be with Federico, the son of a wealthy rancher. It was with a great deal of satisfaction that Eduardo would enjoy spreading the rumor of a resurrection.
Not only had Eduardo got nowhere with the pretty fifteen-year-old Yasmin, he had more recently lost his girlfriend, Violeta to the same man. Informing Violeta that Yasmin was alive and back in town would give him pleasure, although he wasn’t really sure if he liked the idea of making trouble for Federico. The bank president was influential.
It didn’t take long for Eduardo to get a message to his ex, and through her work at the Police Department, Violeta was aware of Yasmin’s case. It was a case, which her boss, Captain Santos Sosa, refused to close. Determined to keep the news from Federico, Violeta suggested that when they finished work that day they go to her apartment.
Federico was happy to be invited, not yet tiring of having sex with Violeta.
*
Meanwhile, excited to arrive at her mother’s house, Yasmin walked the three blocks from the bus to her old home. She arrived breathlessly, apparently no longer used to the light oxygen of the altitude. The first thing she noticed was that the house brandished a new coat of lavender paint with bright white banisters on the porch. She remembered it as a mint green with white when she’d left it, but the house looked welcoming.
As she walked th
e familiar streets, she noticed the colors of the other houses in the village. They were painted in lovely bright colors like yellow, turquoise, green, terracotta, which intensified her yearning for her village. Its unique colors were so different from what she’d become used to seeing in the city houses, which were mostly all white with red terracotta roofs.
Yasmin was hoping she was on time to find her mother still sitting on the porch at this time of the afternoon. Usually, she’d be talking with one of the neighbor women or taking sewing orders. Yasmin was disappointed to see the rocking chair empty.
Yasmin noticed other differences in the house. The porch was lined with clay pots with red geraniums that had never been there before, and there was a beautiful bright-colored hammock hanging. The empty rocking chair made the girl wonder if her mother might be ill. She remembered how Narcisa enjoyed afternoons on the porch.
She walked through the yard, admiring the geraniums and the hammock on the corner. Yasmin felt elated, almost as if she had never left. It was five o’clock in the afternoon. She smelled the aromas of cooking permeating the area, which probably explained why her mother wasn’t outside. Her mouth watered at the memory of the wood-burning aromas of the kitchen.
Standing on the porch, Yasmin had a sudden flashback of Federico as a little boy, who played so many hours here with her when they were children. He, of course, later became the young man she grew to love.
Bringing up as much courage as she could, she managed a firm knock on the door. Voices sounded from inside, a woman and the deep voice of a man, reminding Yasmin that Eva mentioned she was now married.
The door was opened by a tall, handsome man of around thirty years, with skin the color of light cinnamon and a mouth full of white teeth when he smiled. He looked directly at the visitor and said with a sigh, “Yasmin, at last!”
For a moment, Yasmin went pale and quiet, thinking he might be one of Tomas’ men waiting for her at her own mother’s house. Losing all sense of reality, Yasmin spontaneously turned and started to run away.
