When I Knew You

by Desireé Prosapio

  I smiled and jumped on the bed and grabbed the pillow.

  "Are you feeling okay, girl?" Willie asked, her hands on her hip.

  "I'm good," I said, showing her the whiteboard. Written in Abuela's delicate script was her note: Chicago with Gustav.

  I erased the board with my shirt sleeve, sighing with relief, then tossed it on my desk. "She's safe," I said.

  I headed to Abuela's room and opened her bottom drawer on her dresser. Inside was a pile of folders, and I flipped through them until I found the police report on Mom's accident. I'd looked at this folder hundreds of times over the years, at first with the fascination of a kid, flipping over a dead mouse. Then with the pain of an adolescent, hoping to find a way to reverse the curse of the accident, to find a loophole.

  It was the only folder I had left, but if I was right, it might be the most important one of all. I tucked it in the backpack.

  We walked over to the kitchen and I grabbed the extra set of keys to the car. I locked up the house and pocketed the spare key. Then I turned to the driveway. There was Abuela's car. White. Gray interior. Rosary beads hanging from the rearview mirror. It looked completely menacing.

  We both stared at the car for a minute. I walked over to the passenger side and got down on my hands and knees, staring underneath.

  "So, what am I looking for?" I asked Willie.

  "Usually a box or something out of place. But Trent's guy's are pretty good."

  "Great." I felt the need to look more closely, and flipped over on my back, scrambling under the car for a better look. "So you're pretty sure it was Trent?"

  "If it was Eliah, he was the biggest moron in Texas."

  "Good point." Of course, since I was crawling under a car looking for a car bomb I wasn't feeling like the next Einstein myself. I stared at the undercarriage. I'd never looked under a car before and as far as I could tell, everything was out of place. But nothing was blinking, there didn't seem to be any loose wires or a label that said "car bomb."

  I got back up, brushed off my jeans, and clicked the remote to unlock the car. It chirped cheerfully. I took a deep breath, then reached into the backpack, pulling out the water bottle and the note I'd written.

  "Can you get this to your Dad?" I said, handing the evidence to her. "I'm not sure it'll do us any good, but hopefully he'll know what to do with it."

  Willie nodded wordlessly. "So, you going to start it?" She cast a quick glance at the car as if by looking at it too long she might set it off.

  "Why don't you get in your car, Willie?" I said as I opened the door of Abuela's car. "Just in case."

  Willie didn't say anything, but stepped back. "If something happens..." her voice trailed off.

  The scent of Abuela's favorite perfume drifted out into the desert air. White Shoulders. I took another deep breath. Tossing the backpack on the passenger seat, I slid in.

  "If something happens, find Antonia," I said.

  I waited until she shut her car door, then put the key in the ignition of Abuela's car. I closed my eyes and turned the key. The car purred to life and the radio began playing a Tejano song. I looked around and verified I wasn't on fire or dreaming.

  Willie rolled down the passenger window of her car and leaned through it. She peered over her sunglasses at me. "Well, that's a relief. I hate explosions. So, where are you going?"

  "To the beginning," I said. We both pulled away, heading in different directions.

  The intersection where my mother was hit by the truck hadn't changed much in the last twelve years. The gray poles of the traffic lights seemed darker since I'd seen them last, and new bits of shattered glass on the sidewalk had a green tint to them; last time I was here the glass shards had been brown and looked more like beer bottle glass.

  I'd been here at least a dozen times, stood here, watching. Today, just like every other time I'd come, the cars in the intersection drove through in orderly fashion, everyone taking their turn, carefully signaling their intentions and flowing steadily.

  I was parked in the lot in front of the company that had the water truck stolen. Beautiful Living Waters. The truck that hit my mother all those years ago was from this distribution warehouse and office. Signs on the front office windows were faded, the waterfall on the poster had been bleached to a light yellow. The door chimed when I walked in, a long wooden reception desk that ran the length of the room sat empty, fluorescents humming overhead. One flickered on and off.

  The elderly clerk, Al, came out of the back and sat on a stool at the counter. Everyone else was gone for the day, some sort of rally for the boss, he said. Al had a million stories, he'd worked at Beautiful Living Waters before when it was called Oasis, and he laughed when he said he knew where the bodies were buried so they'd never get rid of him. I worked hard to conceal my wince.

  We chatted for an hour, and I learned about everything from his old sales route to the times he'd won employee of the month for 3 years straight. That was when I got to the final question I had, the one I slipped in among our chatter, the one that no one would consider important. By that point in our conversation, he was so pleased to be helpful he even made me a copy of the document I needed and as well as showing me the photo that hung in the back, crooked in a skinny brown frame. I snapped a picture with my phone while he went to get us both some water, uploading it instantly.

  I had it. The final evidence my mother had never found, and could never have found. The final tie to Bonita.

  When I got back to the car I picked up my cell phone and started dialing.

  Chapter 27

  When my phone rang, I was sitting in the parking lot of Julio's restaurant. A tow truck was dragging the remains of Pilar's truck onto the flat bed and yellow police tape fluttered in the hot desert breeze. I wondered how exactly Pilar could file a claim, if I should try to get a police report or something. It occurred to me that Eliah probably would have known what to do.

  During the drive over I wondered if Trent was relieved that Eliah was dead. Obviously, I'd been the target, but there was clearly no love lost between the two. But Eliah didn't know anything about the bomb, and Trent was inside the entire time. I thought of him checking his watch, his sly smile when he was paying the bill. If Willie was right and Trent's men planted the bomb, he didn't feel the need to warn his brother.

  At this point, I didn't worry about Trent finding a way to call me, though. I had no doubt anymore that he knew how to reach me.

  "Is this Kati?" Antonia's voice on the phone was sweet and southern.

  "Mom?" I gripped the phone tightly. "Are you all right?"

  "I think so. I—" She was cut off as Trent came on the line.

  "Katerina? Trent here." He cleared his throat. "Look this is all a big misunderstanding. You have to know this was all Eliah's idea."

  I rolled my eyes. I'm sure it was Eliah's idea to go up in flames too. Either he thought I was a moron or he was a moron. More likely he was testing me.

  "I just want Antonia," I said. "I don't even know what the hell is going on. I had no idea Eliah was obsessed with me like that."

  There was a long pause on the line. "Right," Trent said slowly.

  "I planned to give him back the locket my mom sent me, but he wasn't satisfied with that. Do you think when he heard about the restraining order it set all this in motion or..." I let my voice trail off.

  I could almost hear him take the hook, the line pulling taut as he considered this new bit of information.

  "You're right. That's what set him off, I'd bet. Yes. That's fine, that's fine. Tell you what. Let's meet up. We can put this all behind us. He's gone and there's nothing left to worry about. I'll get that locket."

  "That's fine, but I want to talk to Antonia again. She sounded confused," I said.

  "Sure. Just a minute." The phone was muffled, then Antonia was back.

  "Hello?"

  "Mom? Do you know who this is?"

  Her voice was halting. "I'm not sure, honey. But you know what they say
about pilots. They have a way of finding their way."

  A spark of recognition went off in my mind. "That is what they say. Until they find their way home."

  "Yes. Until they do, hon. Until they do."

  Trent agreed to another meeting, this time at the stadium at the University. He promised to bring Antonia. I promised to bring the locket. When I hung up, my hands were shaking.

  It had been a long time since I'd set up top rope. Usually Pilar set ropes in place while I belayed her on the climb. She was easily four levels better at climbing than me, but I was learning all the time, getting stronger every climb. I could only hope she'd find a way to climb again. A world without Pilar summiting mountains was impossible to imagine.

  Fortunately, this was a pretty simple set up compared to what we did on our rock climbing trips. This was pure free rappel all the way. Most climbers consider rappelling boring, but I loved the sense of a controlled fall, leaning away from the wall you'd worked so hard to get to the top of then watching as the cliff wall flew past you as you lowered yourself to the ground. We'd rappelled off the high rail on the back of the stadium a dozen times during my mountaineering course at UTEP. The rope was an old red and black one I'd left at home, but the harnesses were new. Everything was in place if I needed it.

  The stadium seemed like a good meeting place to me. It was wide open and you could see someone coming from miles away. Then again it was wide open and you could see someone sitting there from miles away.

  My shoulder itched as if there was a target on it.

  Everything depended on me convincing Trent that I didn't know anything, that I thought Eliah was some stalker guy and that he, Trent Bonita—the next governor of the state of Texas—could walk away safely. It depended on Antonia not saying anything, continuing to play dumb. Even though based on her mentions of Pilot, the curtain of her memory was fluttering open again.

  For us to get out of here together, it all had to go perfectly. My jaw tightened and I felt a throb in my temple. The chances of it going perfectly were somewhere between slim and none.

  Football players would usually be gathering on the field below, their lumbering forms scattered like lost puzzle pieces. Some would be in pads while others would wear T-shirts and shorts, tossing footballs in tall arcs. UTEP never had much of a team, but no one cared. It was a writ of college passage to root for your team even if they stood as much chance as a jack rabbit facing down a pack of coyotes. Today the team was on the road and the field was empty, the brilliant white yard lines contrasting against the dark green of the biggest lawn in El Paso.

  I dropped my backpack behind my seat and fingered the locket at my neck nervously. It was all I had left of the evidence my mother had gathered, all that was left of her search for the truth about Javier Bonita. In my dream, she had said it wasn't about proving who Javier wasn't, but who he was. I figured she suspected he was Caleb Mayhan, the Texarkana serial killer. Elian's water bottle certainly wasn't enough evidence to prove that.

  In theory, the DNA could prove that Eliah was related to the Texarkana Moonlight Murderer, but not that Javier Bonita, the land baron, was an imposter himself. If Javier Bonita never claimed Eliah as a son, then he could avoid any connection by saying he wasn't Eliah's father.

  The hair in the locket was the real Javier's, given to him by his mother, but there was no way to prove that either. All I had was the word of a dead woman who wore it around her neck for forty years. At this point, it was useful only as a red herring. I hoped. If we got out of here, I had a different target in mind, a target that meant a lot more to me than the imposter.

  But first we had to get out of here.

  I spotted Trent walking into the stadium with Antonia at his side. She was shuffled slowly with her head down, shuffling slightly. My throat constricted and I tried to hush the swirl of voices in my head telling me she was hurt, she was confused, and worse of all, she was incapable of doing what I needed her to do if we were going to get out of here alive.

  Where I was sitting in the stadium was falling into the shadow cast by the foothill of the Franklin Mountain, a hard line of sun and shade slicing across the rows of seats. I was at the fifty-yard line, about halfway up. They climbed up the stairs, Antonia leaning heavily on Trent's arm.

  Then I knew what I was looking at. Mom looked drugged. I cursed under my breath.

  "It's good to see you," Trent said as he sat next to me and held the stadium seat down for Antonia. She didn't look at me but stared off in the distance. "You'll have to forgive your mother. She wasn't feeling well, so I gave her a little something to calm her nerves."

  "Mom? Mom?" I leaned over, trying to get her attention. She kept staring straight ahead, her eye hidden behind dark sunglasses, her head drooping slightly. I turned my attention to Trent, tried to keep my voice even. "What did you give her?"

  "Calm down, girl. Just a little Valium. She'll be fit—well, as fit as she gets—in the morning." He smiled broadly, a politician's oily smile perfectly plastered on his sun-tanned face. "Won't you, dear?" He patted Antonia's leg.

  She didn't react.

  "Let's get this over with," I said. "Here's the locket." I unhooked it from around my neck and handed it to him.

  He took it, flicked it open with his thumb, and regarded the photo and the lock of hair. He slipped it into his pants pocket. Gone was the nervousness he'd shown at the restaurant. Was that all an act? For who? For Eliah?

  Trent looked down at the field. "You know I never went to college here. Straight to the Ivy Leagues. Only the best was good enough."

  "Good for you. Now we'll just get going." I rose from my seat, but he grabbed my arm.

  "Undergrad at Princeton, law degree at Harvard," he continued, still eyeing at the field. "That's what all that land does for the next generation. My dad, he never even went to college. Not even a lame one like this one."

  I opted not to attempt to defend my alma mater. "Let me go, Trent. I gave you the locket."

  "Sit down," he said irritably. He looked at me, tilting his head to one side as if addressing a terribly dimwitted child. "It was never about the locket, was it, Katarina?"

  I stiffened but sat back down. "It's about Antonia." I met his gaze. His eyes were a brighter blue than what I remembered at lunch, but the pupils were dilated. For the first time, I could see a resemblance with Eliah, a flat effect to his eyes that was at odds with his wide smile.

  "Antonia?" he went on. "Yes, I suppose so. But not this Antonia. Even at her best, she was no more than an annoyance." He leaned back in the stadium chair, and it creaked in protest. "We have a great deal to protect, Katarina. We can do great things for this state, but it means we have to make some sacrifices. Sacrifices for the greater good of the Lone Star State." He gestured to the empty stadium with a wide sweep of free his hand. "My father always understood this."

  Really? Referring to himself as the royal "we"? He was crazier than I thought. I wrested my arm free. "We are leaving. That was the deal. You go on and save Texas."

  I started to get to my feet again, but he pressed me back into my seat and bent close to me, his face in mine.

  "Usually I'm not the one taking care of these things. But with Eliah no longer available..." He pointed to the mountain. "Do you see that little glint over there by the foothill? That's a very good friend of mine. Now, look down for a second."

  I looked down and saw a small red dot glowing on my shirt. I cursed myself for not pulling my gun out of my backpack.

  "It's awful, you know. There is so much drug violence."

  He had a look of mock concern on his face as he continued. "It spills over the border sometimes. Shots ring out, bullets travel far. Heck, there was even a car bomb today. Looks like the cartels are hard at work." He gave a melodramatic sigh. "That's one of the things I'm going to have to take care of when I'm elected governor."

  I watched the red dot wink off. "You think someone is going to believe that bullshit?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Especially co
ming from me, gubernatorial candidate and favorite son of Texas. It's the kind of thing that will shoot me up in the polls - no pun intended."

  He winked, laughing and I bit back my fury. He nodded his head at Antonia. "It'll be even more believable when I save this woman here."

  "Is it time to go?" Antonia's voice was shaky. "I'm so tired, Joe. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

  I stared at her. Something was wrong. There was no trace of her southern lilt.

  Trent patted her leg. "Soon. Real soon." He took a deep breath and let it out slow.

  "You said you would teach me how to work a crossword puzzle. And we could get a cat, maybe," she said, leaning against him.

  I swallowed hard. No southern accent. Talking about crossword puzzles and cats. Antonia wasn't talking to him. She was talking to me. She was telling me what I needed to hear: she was there, aware and ready.

  "We'll get to all that, dear," he said irritably, gently pushing her off his shoulder. "Now, Kati, here's what we are going to do. The three of us are going to get out of this place and take care of our business. I need to follow up on a few things out about you and your mother. Maybe get you to sign a few documents. Just to be safe. Then you'll be free to go."

  I looked up at the mountain. The glint, probably off a scope, was still there, reflecting off the stadium lights that were coming on gradually. "We aren't leaving with you," I said slowly. I hoped at that everything I knew about mom, about her hiding pills, about her mention of our cat, Pilot on the phone, about her anger with Abuela over the money that long outlasted the memory of what happened, that it was all still real. That she was stronger than anyone realized, that she was, just like she said, forgetful but not an idiot by any stretch.

  I jumped to my feet and leaped over the back of my seat, ducking behind Trent, accidentally kicking the backpack away in the process. A shot rang out and something ricocheted off the concrete risers above me.