“If he went into my house, he would’ve seen photographs of me.” Estefan pounded the steering wheel. “Shit!”
“We don’t know if he went inside. We don’t even know if he did this. Estefan, please slow down.”
“I had an argument with my wife before I left. We were mad at each other.”
“Estefan, slow down!”
“Okay! Damn it.”
Harv said, “Try not to assume the worst.”
“She would’ve called or left a message. ‘Hi, Estefan, how’s your business trip going? Oh, by the way, our house just burned down.’”
Nathan didn’t respond. Estefan was right. She would’ve called — assuming she could.
With Estefan’s permission, Harv took Estefan’s phone, put it on speaker, and played the voice mail message.
“This is Lieutenant Enrique Mauro of the Nicaraguan Police. There was a fire at your house this evening. Please call me back as soon as you can.” The lieutenant left his number.
Harv opened the glove box. “Do you have a pen and paper in here?” Estefan didn’t answer, but Harv found what he needed, played the message again, and wrote the phone number.
“It’s probably best if you call back right away,” Nathan said. “If they suspect the fire was arson, the police will automatically put you on the short list of suspects. Is there any way it could be an accidental fire? Does your wife smoke?”
“We both smoke cigars, but she knows she’s not supposed to smoke in bed.”
“Please don’t take this wrong, but does your wife drink?”
Estefan didn’t answer right away. “Our marriage isn’t doing so well. I’m gone a lot.”
“Then she could’ve been drinking and fallen asleep with a lit cigar?” Nathan avoided using the term “passed out.”
“Cigars don’t keep burning like cigarettes do. They go out.”
“That’s true, but they burn for a while. All I’m saying is that we can’t rule it out as an accidental fire. Did your house have a security system or smoke alarms?”
“It has both. We also have a Rottweiler. The bastard probably killed my dog. He’d never get past him otherwise.”
“Again, we don’t know Raven did it,” Nathan said. “I’ll admit the timing’s bad, but it’s still not conclusive evidence. You should call the police back while we’ve still got a signal. Did you tell anyone you’d be out of town for a while? Anyone at work?”
“No. I really will be a suspect, won’t I.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s standard practice for the police to look at family members.”
“And I’ll have no way to prove I didn’t do it. It’s not like you guys can come down to the station and vouch for me.”
“You don’t have to prove you didn’t do it. I’m assuming your justice system works like ours?”
Estefan didn’t say anything. His mind was clearly in turmoil over his father’s murder, his house burning down, and the uncertainty of his wife’s condition. This had to be tearing him up.
Harv said, “I’ll dial the number for you.” When it rang, Harv put it on speaker and handed the phone to Estefan. Not surprisingly, he got dumped into Lieutenant Mauro’s voice mail.
“This is Estefan Delgado calling you back. Please return my call as soon as you can.” Estefan recited his phone number twice.
“Okay,” said Nathan. “That’s good. Now we need to think about what you’re going to say. Can you tell him you went up north on business? You said the area around Santavilla is identified for potential leases. Can you say you came up here to look the area over?”
“I can do that, but I didn’t say anything about it at work.”
“I don’t think that’s a major problem,” Nathan said. “You can say it was a last-minute decision. Come to think of it, your cell phone might contain proof you weren’t in Managua when the fire broke out.”
Harv said, “I think the work-related angle’s a good approach, but we don’t want Estefan’s answers to sound too rehearsed. It might be best if you don’t have an answer for every question this Mauro might throw at you.”
“I agree.” Nathan said. “You weren’t in Managua when the fire started. Beyond that, you’ll just have to see where his line of inquiry goes.”
Estefan smacked the steering wheel again. “This fucking sucks!”
“We’ll get through it,” Harv said.
Nathan didn’t respond. There were times it was best to be silent. The next few miles seemed endless. They got stuck behind a semitruck and couldn’t pass. Nathan felt Estefan’s anger building.
When Estefan’s phone rang, it startled him. His nerves were frayed, exactly what Raven would want and hope to accomplish.
“That could be my wife. Give me the phone.”
“Pull over,” Harv said.
Estefan did the opposite. He laid on his horn, hit the gas, and recklessly passed the semitruck on a blind curve.
“Shit, man!” Harv said. “That was dangerous. Getting us all killed won’t help your situation.”
Nathan was more firm. “Don’t do it again.”
“Calm down,” said Harv, “and I’ll put your phone on speaker.”
“Harv, you hold the phone,” Nathan said.
Estefan turned his head and said, “Hello?”
“Is this Mr. Delgado?”
“Yes.”
“This is Lieutenant Mauro from the Nicaraguan National Police.”
“Is my wife okay?”
“That’s why I’m calling.”
Estefan clenched his jaw.
“Are you there, Mr. Delgado?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife is in the hospital. We found her in your backyard. She has a blunt-force head wound.”
“What are you saying, she’s alive?”
“Yes, she’s unconscious, and she’s in critical condition. The doctors don’t think she’s in danger of dying, but she might need surgery to relieve pressure on her brain. Her sister is at the hospital with her. You might want to be there as well.”
Estefan hit the steering wheel hard enough to break it. The pickup swerved.
Harv tapped him and silently mouthed the words “pull over.”
“Mr. Delgado, are you okay?”
Nathan leaned forward and poked Harv — hard.
“Mr. Delgado?”
Understanding Nathan’s silent prod, Harv ended the call.
“Estefan! Pull over,” Nathan yelled.
“That cocksucking son of a bitch! He didn’t have to hurt her!”
“Pull over. Now!”
Estefan cut the inside corner of a curve too closely and lost control. The pickup fishtailed into the oncoming side of the road.
Estefan recovered but too late. They grazed a barbed-wire fence, crossed back onto their own side, and ended up halfway in the ditch with the tailgate of their truck protruding into the road at an angle.
“Damn it, Estefan!” Nathan whipped around, looking for the semi they’d passed a few seconds ago. It would emerge from the blind corner at any moment. “Get us the hell out of here!”
In horror, Nathan watched the trees next to the road burst with light.
“Estefan!”
Two seconds later, piercing headlights barreled straight toward them.
The blat of the semi’s air horn penetrated their cab as the rig’s driver veered to the left to avoid hitting them.
The truck roared past, missing Estefan’s rear bumper by less than a foot.
In what seemed like slow motion, the semi’s left wheels found the shoulder.
The rig began leaning.
Rather than go straight into the tilled field, the driver tried to recover and stay on the road — a bad move with a worse result.
Nathan felt a glimmer of hope as the rig teetered on its left wheels. His optimism ended when he realized the trailer’s lateral momentum was too great, sealing the rig’s fate.