Yours always,
Adelmo
I assumed his reference to the colorful crabs we encountered on the way to the museum was to reassure me the note came from him. I wondered what would happen if I refused him. Would Marco leave? Would my refusal end any chance of finding out what happened to my sister?
Adelmo promised he would uncover the truth about Stella, and, while his fervor frightened me, I believed him. I explained to Marco I would go with him but had to write a note for my friends to let them know where and with whom I was going. He smiled but shook his head in response to my inquiry about our destination.
“I am sorry, Señorita. I am under orders not to reveal such information. Your friends must trust you are safe.”
Trust. That was the issue. Justin said Ben destroyed my ability to trust, and until he came along, that was true.
Adelmo was a different story. I shuddered at his obsession for vengeance when we first met but had come to understand it. I even experienced a strange connection whenever I was with him. While lack of fear might not be the same as trust, it would have to do.
Marco waited while I found paper and pen. I supplied as many details as I could about who had summoned me and why I was going. I emphasized Adelmo had guaranteed my safety, and that I took him at his word.
My escort held the door open and guided me to a long, black limo. I sank into the dove-gray leather seats, wondering if I had made the right decision. While I believed my sister’s lover wouldn’t harm me, I suspected his information about Stella’s last hours would devastate me. And the line in his note about taking part in delivering justice for her might destroy me.
I closed my eyes. The image of a bright orange and purple tennis shoe flashed through my mind. I trembled at the possibility I had already played a role in settling the score for Stella. But if Prez had killed her, I wasn’t sorry. Besides, my actions at that hellish house were more self-defense than murder. Adelmo talked about getting justice, but what if it was more like revenge? If so, did I care?
The Grace Burnette who landed in the Guayaquil airport less than a week ago had been determined to protect Ben from violence, regardless of his culpability. But I wasn’t that woman anymore. I’d been bullied and terrorized, had seen brutality up close and personal in the form of my sister’s destroyed body. And I had faced the fact I would never get the chance to tell her that, despite all the heartache between us, I had never stopped loving her. She was and would always be my flawed, but beautiful, Stella Star.
So, the answer was no. I didn’t care whether it was justice or revenge.
I had no sense of how much time had passed before the limo slowed to a stop. Marco came round to my side and opened the door. Unlike Javi’s indifference, his demeanor suggested he cared about me, didn’t want to terrify me. When he offered his hand, I took it.
The glare from the sunlight stabbed at my eyes. Marco had parked on the edge of a construction site. Developers had bulldozed the land, creating an artificial clearing for the foundation. Several car lengths in front of our limo, a black sedan sat beside a small trailer.
“Señor Balsuto is waiting,” Marco said.
“You’re not coming?”
“No, Señorita. My instructions are to wait here.”
I squared my shoulders and stepped up to the makeshift cement block stairs. An air conditioning unit jutted from a side window. It wheezed and dripped water onto the ground, forming a puddle in the rutted earth. After inhaling and exhaling, I tapped on the aluminum door.
I almost didn’t recognize the man in front of me. He’d shaved his thick beard, leaving a heavy five o’clock shadow in its place. Beneath it, his skin had a grayish tint, suggestive of someone suffering from a long-term illness. Deep lines creased the corners of his bloodshot eyes. But his smile was as seductive as before, and his hands were still warm and strong.
“I am so glad you came, Grace.” He ushered me in and closed the door.
Despite the sputtering contraption in the window, the air was damp and clammy. It was so dark I had to stop, unable to get my bearings. He flipped a switch, but the dim light did little to illuminate the room. Then he led me farther into the trailer. It wasn’t just the poor lighting that made the room seem more like a cave than a civilized dwelling. The paneled walls were a dull brown, providing little contrast with the worn carpet. The only furnishings were a broken-down desk, a plaid recliner with stuffing sticking out of the seat, and a rickety kitchen chair.
“I apologize for the conditions of our meeting place, but privacy was more important than appearance as you will soon understand. But first, what may I bring you? Water or soda? Something stronger if you prefer?”
“Water’s good, thank you.” I watched as he dragged a cooler from beneath the desk and removed two bottles.
“I appreciate your coming. It cannot be easy for you to put yourself in the hands of someone you do not know so well. But from the moment I saw you, it was as if we had known each other for quite some time. Like my beloved Stella, you are a very old soul. Perhaps you and I were close in some earlier life.”
He stopped to stare into
