Mackenzie was so far out of his comfort zone he had no idea how to respond. ‘They must be very proud of you,’ he said. It seemed like the right kind of thing to say.
‘They’re dead,’ Cristina said flatly, and Mackenzie wanted the ground to open up beneath him. But neither of his hosts seemed aware of it. Mackenzie wished Lucas had never found him, and that he was still sitting in the bar up at the Hostal Totana, enjoying a beer and a sandwich.
He made a clumsy attempt to change the subject. ‘So what kind of area do the police here cover?’
Cristina shrugged. ‘In Marviña we’re responsible for policing halfway to Estepona and all the way down the coast to Torreguadiaro. As well as a good swathe of territory inland. Just the mundane stuff. The juicy crimes go to the judicial police in Estepona or get referred to the homicide or drugs squads in Malaga.’
‘But drugs are your biggest problem?’
‘The root of all evil,’ Antonio said.
Cristina nodded her agreement. ‘The users steal to feed their habit. The dealers diversify. Prostitution, people-trafficking. We know who most of them are, but it’s hard to get solid evidence. Usually we only ever nail them for personal possession or DUI, then they’re back on the streets again in no time. The big stuff . . . they hide that well. Safe houses up in the hills.’
Mackenzie frowned. ‘Safe houses? What do you mean?’
Antonio said, ‘Farmers get coerced into keeping the stuff for them. Innocents with no connection at all to the gangs. Drugs get hidden in barns and cowsheds. The really big stashes. And if it’s your farm they choose, you only object if you’ve grown tired of life.’
Lucas slipped off his seat and started towards his bedroom. His spaghetti was only half-eaten. Cristina said sharply, ‘Where do you think you’re going? You haven’t finished yet.’
‘I’ve got homework to do.’ He looked back at them and delivered his coup de grâce. ‘Unless you want to help.’
Antonio pulled a face. ‘Maths again?’
Lucas nodded.
Cristina sighed. ‘I think we’re going to have to get you a tutor, Lucas.’
Lucas shrugged. ‘Whatever.’ And headed off to his room.
‘We can’t afford a tutor.’ Antonio looked at her pointedly.
Cristina turned towards Mackenzie. ‘He’s a bright boy. Doing really well in most subjects. But maths . . .’ She shrugged hopelessly.
‘Must be in the genes,’ Antonio said. ‘Neither of us are remotely equipped to help him. I mean, I sell cars down in Santa Ana. The extent of my arithmetic is subtracting the trade-in value from the asking price and adding on the extras.’
‘Maybe I could help,’ Mackenzie said. ‘I have a degree in mathematics.’
An astonished silence fell across the table. Cristina said, ‘You have a degree in maths?’
‘Among other things.’
Antonio said, ‘Four languages and multiple degrees! What on earth are you doing in the police?’
Cristina flicked him a look, but Mackenzie said simply, ‘My dad was a cop.’
Cristina said, ‘Well, if you’re around long enough, maybe you could see if there’s anything you could do to help the boy. But here’s hoping we get Cleland sooner rather than later.’
Not least, Mackenzie thought, because it would take the strain off this whole family. Even he could see that living with Cleland’s threat of reprisal was taking its toll. He stood up. ‘I should be going.’
‘Already?’ Antonio seemed disappointed.
Mackenzie said to Cristina, ‘You told me you’re taking your sister to the hospital in the morning.’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’
‘She has breast cancer.’
‘Oh.’ Again he was at a loss for how to respond, and scared to say anything in case it was the wrong thing – as Susan had so often accused him of doing.
‘I’m picking up Paco, too. He’s getting released tomorrow.’
‘All one big happy family,’ Antonio quipped, though his smile said it was anything but.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Colegio Cánovas del Castillo comprised a collection of square white buildings set someway back from the road to Estepona, behind Burger King and the Mercadona supermarket.
Cristina turned off the A7 at Aldi and followed the cracked tarmac surface of a tree-lined dual carriageway back into the dusty sun-bleached hills that rose in random undulations towards the mountains. Unfinished roads branched off to the left and right, petering out in the dust.
Cranes loomed over abandoned concrete apartment blocks on the rise, and in the valley beyond the school empty terracotta villas sat in rows among the gorse, facing on to the parched fairways of a tawdry-looking golf course. She spun the wheel and turned the battered family Seat down towards the school gates, past the shuttered sales office of a developer peddling homes that had never been built.
The road was lined with the cars of parents dropping off their children, a slow procession in both directions, the pavement crowded with chattering children in shirtsleeves and regulation skirts and shorts, satchels slung over shoulders or hanging from little hands. It was already hot, and Cristina had all the windows down.
She was embarrassed by her car, easing its way between all the shiny new SUVs: Mercs, Audis, BMWs. Many of which Antonio had probably sold. Even with two incomes it was all they could afford. Although Antonio was fortunate in being able to bring home a car from the second-hand lot every evening. Neither Cristina nor her husband earned very much, and the bulk of their disposable income went on providing the best education for Lucas that money could buy. Still, he was not doing as well as they had hoped.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him sitting anxiously in the back seat. After Mackenzie had gone the previous evening, she had done her level best to help him with his homework, but knew she wasn’t really up to it. And so did Lucas. Only, it was he who had to face his teachers, not her.
Almost as if she had read her sister’s mind, Nuri put a hand over Cristina’s and offered her a pale smile from
