“Elena,” he called as he stepped through the door opening. He beamed the flashlight around the room. When he didn’t find her in the main room, he walked toward the two exam rooms in the back. Maybe she was with Miguel and had fallen asleep.
“Elena?” he called. His voice echoed hollow on the bare walls.
He searched both exam rooms. The cot where Miguel had slept was empty, the blanket thrown on the floor. Maybe they had stepped out to get a view of the street. He hurried back to the front door. A breeze caught him as he crossed the main room, and he looked toward the windows in the back of the clinic. One stood open. He remembered closing them before the storm.
He shined the flashlight around the floor, the windows and into the alleyway. The door he had used to slip out the night of the party stood open. He exited and flashed the light up and down the alleyway. No sign of Elena and Miguel. He hurried down the alley to the street, dodging sodden garbage. They couldn’t have gone far. Why did they leave through the side door?
He hadn’t passed them on the way. He turned in the opposite direction on the street and started walking, shining the light in all directions. He hailed a woman he did not recognize who stood on the sidewalk.
“Have you seen a woman and a small boy come by? She is tall with dark hair. Very pretty.”
“No, señor, I have not.”
He willed the rising panic out of his heart so it could not take up residence. He couldn’t afford to give way to fear. He had to keep a clear head. Think. Where could they have gone? A horrible thought struck. They would not have left of their own accord. Elena had promised to stay. She knew the danger. She wouldn’t expose Miguel to the elements. Dominic trusted her, and his gut instinct told him that she wouldn’t have left unless someone forced her to leave.
He closed his eyes. Dominic didn’t believe in bargaining with God. But now he did. If the Almighty kept Elena and Miguel safe, he would never again forsake his calling. He needed his floundering faith to help him through this ordeal.
He knew what he had to do.
He hurried back to the clinic, searching for signs of Elena and Miguel as he went. He ducked into the open door of the clinic, sweeping the room with the flashlight, hoping they’d come back.
No one was there.
He yanked a backpack out of the metal locker where he kept emergency rations and threw in a temporary splint for the injured man and several bottles of pain killers. He crouched and felt behind the metal locker for a box and pulled it free. Inside was the pistol Connie Lascano had issued him. He scribbled a note in case Elena returned and left it under the lamp on the table in the main room. Outside the wind ruffled his hair. He knew he had precious little time before the fury returned.
Seventeen
Elena and Miguel were hunched over, hugging each other.
“Are you okay?” She wiggled to make more room. The space was not big enough for two of them.
“Shut up in there.” Jorge banged on the metal cabinet lid of their prison.
When he had staggered soaking wet into the clinic Elena hadn’t recognized him. What she did recognize was the gun. He had brandished it in front of her face and told her to shut up and get the kid before her boyfriend came back.
Elena had had a tough time waking Miguel. He responded like he had been drugged, like he didn’t want to acknowledge the storm or the trouble they were in. Finally, she had picked him up and carried him out of the clinic — at gunpoint. She had no desire to play hero. She wanted to protect Miguel. She wasn’t sure what Jorge was going to do with them, but she knew now that he was the killer.
She could hear him rattling something on the metal box, and a sickening feeling gripped her. He was locking them in.
“There,” he said in a loud voice. “That should hold you. Don’t try anything.”
“Wait,” said Elena. She would not let fear overtake resolve. “I know what you are looking for. If you let us go, I’ll help you find it.”
Silence at first. Then Jorge said, “How do you know I am looking for something?”
“I figured it out. The Museum director had a book with a drawing in it that gave me the clue.”
He fumbled with the lock and threw open the lid. Elena hugged Miguel close to her side. He turned his head into her shoulder, as if to deny Jorge and the whole ordeal were real.
Jorge pointed the gun at her. “What are you talking about?”
Elena was grasping at straws. All she had was a hunch why the first man was murdered, and she hadn’t been able to work it all out until fear had her in its lucid grip.
“What are you talking about, I said?”
He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up so hard Elena winced. She faced up to him hands clenched, jaw tight with determination.
“You killed that man, and you were blackmailing the director. But you haven’t found what you’re looking for because you don’t know where the murdered man hid it. I do.”
Jorge grinned like a clean picked skull. “You think I’m looking for something, huh? You’re so smart, you think you know everything.”
He squeezed her arm until she wanted to scream but she bit back the scream and stared him down. This man must not know how frightened she was.
“Let Miguel go back to the clinic, and I’ll take you to the place.”
“Where is it?”
She hesitated because she wasn’t sure how much he knew and she wanted to give as few clues as possible. So she said, “In the Archaeological Park.”
“In the Park, is it? There’s just the small matter of a hurricane, but I think it’s over.”
Elena didn’t bother to tell him this was only the eye of the storm, the quiet that would lead to more destruction. She wanted Miguel out of danger.
His eyes narrowed to slits. He seemed to be considering her offer. Elena didn’t allow her gaze to waver. She wanted to scream but that wouldn’t help. No one was around. He had brought them to a deserted warehouse on the edge of town. On the way, they had narrowly escaped injury from falling limbs and electric lines. The gun in her back had propelled them down the street.
“What am I looking for?” he asked, shoving his face so close to hers she drew back.
She shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. “I don’t know. But I do know where the hiding place is. I know it made you kill one man and a child and drive another to suicide.”
“Hah. What if I did? So you think you know where this hiding place is.”
“Yes, I do.” She fought to keep the quaver from her voice.
He grinned. “Well, we’ll see. Get out of that box, both of you.” He waved the hand that held the gun.
Elena lifted Miguel out and then struggled to climb out herself. The metal box had sharp edges. She sliced open her knee climbing over its high side.
“Come on, stop stalling, or I take care of the kid now.”
“Wait,” she said. “There’s no deal if Miguel gets hurt. He goes back to the clinic. No harm comes to him, or there’s no deal. I don’t take you to the site.”
Jorge shoved Miguel so hard the child fell to the floor. “Stupid kid. Should have killed all of them.”
Elena’s rage almost propelled her into the ugly bastard’s face. She wanted to claw his eyes out for being a callous and coldhearted freak who would so casually take the life of a hapless child. But she had to focus on the here and now, or Miguel would not be safe. She helped him up, asking if he was hurt. Miguel shook his head.
“Get moving,” Jorge said.
She forgot the gash on her knee was dripping blood and turned to face Jorge.
“I want your word Miguel is not harmed. He’s not going with us.”