An axe.
She blinked her eyes, rubbed them, tried to refocus. The figure strode up the path with a stomping gait, heading toward the site of the murder. He paused, looked around then continued upward, disappearing into the building at the top of the pyramid. No, she wouldn’t be spending the night here. She took off running down the path, back to civilization, safety, and sanity.
Maybe.
A truck had arrived that day with a shipment of medical supplies badly needed in the clinic. Two exam tables came along with a sterilizer, cabinets and supplies — bandages, medicines, tongue depressors, hypodermic needles and more. Dominic had set up the exam tables, one in each of two rooms at the back of the clinic.
Little Gordo rested on one of the tables after a thorough exam by Corazón. Dominic had bathed him in the narrow bathroom in the clinic. The boy was so weak he hadn’t protest the scrubbing. Corazón had found a clean T-shirt from their supply of donated clothing and a pair of shorts a little big but serviceable. She had checked his head for lice, exclaiming over what a miracle it was this child had none, and had given him a pill to calm his digestive system.
“These children need to be in a home,” she said. “Why they do not stay at the Catholic relief house, I do not understand.”
Dominic understood. These boys were wild things, unable to live life penned up in an institution, preferring the life of a vagabond to life confined with rules and regulations. Because circumstances forced them into petty thievery, they feared incarceration if they were caught.
He finished for the day and checked on Gordo in the exam room to see if he were awake. The boy was sitting up, rubbing his eyes, scrutinizing the room.
“Feeling better?” asked Dominic, not turning on the bare light bulb in the exam room, but depending on the light from the waiting area to see.
“Sí mucho mejor,” said the boy. “Hay de comer?”
Dominic smiled. It was a good sign the boy wanted something to eat. “You may have some chamomile tea and crackers until your stomach feels better.”
He boiled water for tea on the single burner plate in the tiny kitchen of the clinic. A small refrigerator for perishable drugs, a sink and a cabinet rounded out what there was of the kitchen. Dominic found a box of crackers, stirred a generous helping of sugar into the cup of tea, and took the small repast to the boy.
Gordo looked at the crackers, his dark eyes wide.
“Gracias,” he said and gobbled the crackers two at a time, chewing with his mouth open.
“Here’s the tea. Sip it with the crackers. I’ll be back.”
He wanted to talk to Corazón. The boy couldn’t stay alone in the clinic overnight. They discussed taking him to the Catholic relief house for the evening and decided this was best solution. Dominic would drive the boy to the house to see if the nuns had room for him.
Gordo finished the tea and every last cracker crumb. Dominic explained where he was taking him.
“I don’t want to go.”
“You can stay there until you are better. You can’t spend the night under the bridge.”
Gordo didn’t seem convinced, but he had no other choice.
At the relief house, the nun, Sister Rita, looked the boy over, asked about lice and fleas. Her tone of voice was without humor. She wore no habit other than a scarf on her head. Deep lines etched a thin face.
She sighed and said, “We are full, but I can fix him a pallet for the night.”
Dominic would have wished her demeanor less stern in dealing with a frightened child, but perhaps her task was too overwhelming to understand. He thanked her, and she blessed him.
“I will check on you in the morning, Gordo. You better be here when I return.” He ruffled the boy’s hair.
Gordo looked up with solemn black eyes and said nothing. The nun took the boy’s hand and led him away. Gordo shuffled beside her without looking back.
Watching him go, Dominic felt like he had abandoned the little guy. Confound it, he couldn’t help there were so many homeless children in the world, now could he? He couldn’t very well take every orphan he encountered home with him.
He got in the Jeep and shoved it into gear. He’d take one last pass at the bridge to see if Flaco had by some miracle returned for the night. By this time it was dark. A waxing moon hung in a sky painted with a thousand stars. As he approached the bridge he saw a bobbing spot of light in the distance. Someone walking, no, more like running with a light of some kind, judging by the way the beam jumped around.
He slowed down to see if there was trouble. The figure of a woman appeared in the high beams. At this time of night? Alone? Dominic peered harder into the gloom. His eyes did not deceive him. It was Elena, running like the devil himself were in pursuit.
She put her hand over her eyes to shield against the glare of the headlights, and he switched them off. He pulled alongside, and she kept running.
“Elena,” he shouted.
She stopped past the Jeep.
“Who is it?” she said between gasps.
“Dominic. It’s me, Dominic. Why are you out for a run at this time of night?”
Her slim outline drew closer to the driver’s side.
“Give me a minute.” She bent over, trying to catch her breath.
“You okay? Want a ride?”
“I ran from the Park,” she said and leaned against the side of the vehicle. “I guess I’m a little out of shape.”
Not that he could see, thought Dominic.
He fumbled behind his seat for a bottle of water. “Here, you look like you could use this.”
“Thanks,” she said and took a few sips. She fanned her face with her hat. “Boy, that was some run.”
“I’d say, by the look of you. I’ll pull off so you can get in. I came to check under the bridge for Flaco. He wasn’t here this morning, so I wanted to check tonight.”
She moved away. He pulled to the side of the road, found his flashlight and got out. “Jump in. This will only take a minute.”
He returned before long and climbed in beside her. “Not a soul. This morning there was a sick boy, and I took him back to the clinic to get some help.”
“I looked for Flaco today, too, out among the ruins, but I found not a trace. I hope nothing has happened to him.”
“Me, either. He could be lying in a ditch somewhere hurt, and we’d never find him. No one would care if he’s gone.”
He started the engine and backed around, heading toward town.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to be resting.”
“I was at the ruins, trying to see what I could discover.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Yes, something real interesting.”
She didn’t continue at first, and he sensed reluctance on her part. He waited, wondering whether it had to do with the boy.
Then she said, “Do you believe in ghosts?”
Dominic laughed. “Maybe. There certainly are enough haunted places around. I’ve never seen one myself. Why? Have you? You were running like you had.”
“I think I did. Out by the site where the man was murdered. I was looking for clues, trying to see if there may have been anything overlooked. I heard a noise and out of nowhere a weird sort of gray thing materialized in the form of a Mayan warrior like you see on the stellae. He was real small and he had an axe in hand, like he was going to use it.”
They approached the outskirts of Copan Ruinas where the first block with sidewalks appeared. Dominic pulled over.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”