She said, “Don’t you have a gun?”
He simply shook his head.
The gunfire continued outside. It started to become sporadic, dissipating, until a few random shots rang out and then there was silence.
Out in the hallway, slow, steady footsteps echoed off the hardwood floor.
Daniela looked toward the window again. Maybe she could squeeze through it after all. Her father couldn’t, but maybe he could give her a boost and then she could—
The door was kicked open with such force she jumped and cried out.
A man entered, an American, his gun sweeping back and forth between her and her father while he scanned the room. When it was clear to him Daniela and her father were not armed, he stepped to the side and shouted.
“In here!”
Another set of footsteps came down the hallway. A lighter set. They did not hurry. They took their time. Just as the footsteps were right around the corner, Daniela closed her eyes. She knew these people were here to kill her, and for an instant she wanted to believe this was all a bad dream.
Then all at once the footsteps stopped, and a woman spoke.
“Hello, Maria.”
Fifty-Five
The woman just stands there, her eyes closed. She’s acting like a child trying to keep the boogeyman away. If she can’t see the monster, the monster can’t see her. The only thing she doesn’t get is that she’s the monster in this situation.
“Or should I say hello, Daniela?”
The woman opens her eyes. Stares at me for a long moment. Her mouth opens up a bit but no words come out.
Her father says, “Who are you? What do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter who we are. What matters is that we know who you are. You are Comandante Geraldo Espinoza. You oversee the policía in this part of the country. And this is your daughter Daniela Diaz. When I first met her, she told me her name was Maria and that she was a nanny.”
Espinoza frowns, clearly not following.
“I’m the one who attacked Ernesto Diaz’s compound. I’m the one who saved your daughter and Javier Diaz’s children. I took them up the coast and I left them at that brick building in the middle of nowhere. I left them there, and then your daughter killed the children.”
Espinoza doesn’t respond. Neither does Daniela.
“You see, Javier threatened me and my family. So I killed him. I knew the only way to keep my family safe from retribution was to come here and take out Ernesto. So the research I did was mostly on Ernesto. I must admit, that was my own fault. Had I looked close enough, I would have learned about how Javier’s first wife died giving birth to their second child, and how a year later he married Daniela.”
Still no response.
“The way I figure it, Daniela, you thought telling me you were the children’s nanny would make it less likely that I would kill you. The truth is, had you told me you were the children’s mother—or stepmother in this instance—I probably wouldn’t have done anything to hurt you. Those kids needed you, especially after what had just happened. But then, well, you went and killed them.”
“No.”
Daniela nearly barks it. Her face has reddened, and she shakes her head adamantly.
“I didn’t kill them.”
“Okay. You didn’t kill them. But Miguel did.”
The flatness of her eyes tells me I’m right.
“So here’s how I see things played out. After I left you at that building, you ran up the drive to the phone. Maybe you thought about calling your father, but most likely not. After you married Javier Diaz, you became estranged from your father. Went years without speaking to him. So you didn’t call your father that night. You called Miguel Dominguez, who was either an old friend or boyfriend or maybe drug dealer. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
Daniela says nothing.
“So you tell Miguel what happened. How the Diaz compound was attacked and how you ended up a couple miles up the coast. How you don’t know what to do now. You ask Miguel to come get you, and like a loyal friend—or maybe a guy who has always had a thing for you and will ask how high whenever you tell him to jump—he leaves his post at the motel. As he leaves, he runs into a prostitute on the street. Maybe the idea came to him, or maybe … maybe you came up with the idea.”
Still nothing.
“See, that’s the one thing I’m not sure about, whose idea it was from the start. But one of you had the idea of copycatting the Devil. Miguel managed to get the prostitute in his car and brought her out to the building. I’m thinking at that point she probably wouldn’t have gone willingly, so maybe he had to stuff her in his trunk or something. But then he shows up, and he manages to kick down the door into that brick building, and then … what happened, Daniela? If you didn’t kill the children, did you at least watch Miguel when he did it?”
She just glares at me.
“So you cut the prostitute’s and the children’s throats and you leave them there in the building. Maybe it was Miguel’s idea after all, but I don’t think so. Remember when we were on the beach and you asked to come with me? At first you said I but then hesitated and changed it to we. See, it didn’t mean much to me then, but now I’ve had time to think about it. Something tells me you’ve always resented the children. They weren’t yours, after all, not really, and besides, they probably kept you from having a more exciting life. So when you saw the opportunity to eliminate them—to start over a new
