“She saw the bodies?”
“We think so. She was definitely inside the building. We know she saw something, though we’re not sure if she saw the bodies because of the smoke. But she did throw up.”
Ramon and Carlos looked at each other again.
Carlos asked him, “What do you think?”
Ramon said, “It’s probably nothing, but I’ll speak to her. First let’s check inside.”
They waved off the officer’s offer to lead them into the building and entered to find three other officers standing around the charred bodies. They were young, probably at their first murder scene. One of them had his phone out to take pictures.
Carlos cleared his throat.
The three officers froze, turned to look at them. The one taking pictures quickly pocketed the phone, his face burning.
Carlos said, “Get the fuck out of here.”
The officers hustled outside.
Ramon and Carlos approached the charred bodies. Just as the officer outside had said, two children and an adult.
Ramon glanced at Carlos.
“Do you think it’s her?”
“After what happened last night at the Diaz compound, it has to be.”
“But how would they have even gotten here? The Diaz compound is at least ten miles away.”
Carlos’s only answer was a slight shake of his head.
They were silent for a long moment, staring down at the bodies, when footsteps crunched the dirt behind them. They turned to find the officer who had spoken to them outside standing in the doorway.
“Another car just arrived.”
Carlos said, “Do you know who it is?”
“I believe it is Comandante Espinoza.”
Ramon closed his eyes, muttered a curse.
Carlos thanked the officer and turned to Ramon.
“He shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
“We told him he shouldn’t come.”
“I know.”
Before anything else could be said, their commanding officer filled the doorway. Geraldo Espinoza was in his late-fifties but looked much older. He wore dress pants and a dress shirt, typical office attire. He had dark close-cropped hair sprinkled with gray, a thin goatee, and glasses perched on his weathered face. Normally he looked calm, composed, completely in control, but now it looked like he was about to fall apart.
Carlos stepped forward, blocking the older man’s view of the bodies.
“You don’t want to see her. Not like this.”
The desperation on the comandante’s face was so palpable at that moment Ramon could feel it.
“Can you even tell—”
Carlos shook his head.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“The bodies are too badly burned. They’re just”—he hesitated, clearing his throat—“remains at this point.”
The comandante took another unsteady step into the room.
“I need to see her.”
Carlos shook his head again.
“Sir—”
“I need to see her, goddamn it.”
Ramon and Carlos didn’t need to exchange glances this time to know what the other was thinking. They both stepped out of the comandante’s way. The older man went forward. But he stopped short before dropping down next to the bodies as protocol kicked in. He stepped back, his body trembling, though strangely there were no tears in his eyes when he turned back to them.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
Saying it as if the thought had just occurred to him.
Ramon and Carlos said nothing.
The comandante nodded, as if just now hearing his own words.
“I shouldn’t have come. I know I shouldn’t have come, but I—”
His voice cracked, and he shook his head.
“We’re going to find the son of a bitch and we’re going to make him pay.”
Ramon and Carlos only nodded.
The older man looked down at the bodies one last time before he turned and hurried outside.
For a moment, there was complete silence in the cramped building. The smoke may have cleared, but the stench of burned flesh still hung heavy in the air. Even the mask covering Ramon’s nose did little to slow the stink. Ramon didn’t know about Carlos, but it was causing his stomach to churn.
He said, “Let’s get some fresh air.”
They walked outside. Comandante Espinoza had returned to his car, but he hadn’t gotten back into it yet. He stood beside it, now smoking a cigarette, all the other officers avoiding him.
Carlos asked, “Remember the pay phone on the way in?”
“What about it?”
“I’m going to see if any of these officers were smart enough to check it out.”
“You think he would have used it?”
“Not the Devil, no. But maybe she did.”
The Devil. Ramon hated the name given to the killer, but it was the one the newspapers had given him and it had stuck ever since.
Ramon said, “We don’t even know if it’s a she in there. We don’t even know if those bodies are related to the others.”
Carlos sighed.
“I think at this point it’s safe to assume we know who those bodies are and who killed them.”
“Something about it doesn’t feel right.”
“All of it doesn’t feel right. Now I’m going to check on the pay phone. Why don’t you talk to the woman and see if there’s anything one of the officers may have missed.”
“And then what should I do with her?”
“Cut her loose.”
Twelve
I can’t see the gun.
Not from where I am at least, sitting here on this rock, my back to the building and all the police.
I can see the ocean but I can’t see the beach down below, and it’s because of that I can’t see the gun.
I mean, yes, I don’t want to see the gun. If I threw it hard enough, it should have splashed down into the water. If luck is on my side, the tide would have taken the gun out far enough where it would have sunk to the bottom.
But if luck isn’t on my side—if I didn’t throw the gun out far enough or the tide somehow washed it back onto shore—then I’m screwed.
There’s no telling how long they intend to keep me here. I’ve given them my information, answered questions, played the part of a worried, frantic tourist the best I could, but maybe it wasn’t enough. Because they told me I couldn’t leave yet, that I had to wait, and just what the hell am I waiting for? To give them time to canvas the area? So that somebody can make their way down to the beach and
