Jorge laughed. “You want my word? You can have it. Now get moving.” He shoved her shoulder.
Elena held onto Miguel’s hand as she led him through beat up wood crates stacked in the warehouse. She had seen the fear in the child’s eyes when she had helped him up. Jorge would pay for this. He would pay.
The building creaked and shuddered. Water dripped everywhere, and they were soaked to the skin. Elena’s one thought was to get Miguel to the safety of the clinic. After that, she didn’t know. She’d try to get away or overpower this maniac somehow. The hurricane was the least of her worries.
Jorge shoved them out of the warehouse. When Elena turned toward town, he pushed her in the opposite direction.
“No, bitch, we go this way.”
“The clinic is the other way. Miguel goes to the clinic.”
The barrel of the gun swept across her face before she realized what he was doing. The power of the blow knocked her to the ground. Through a daze she heard Miguel crying.
“Shut up. I’m not taking the kid to the clinic. What? And have someone pick me up? Stupid, stupid bitch. I’m not that dumb.”
He kicked her hard in the leg.
“Now get up.”
Elena held the side of her face with her hand, trying to get her breath, trying to quell the throbbing pain in her head. She reached for Miguel to quiet him.
“Shhh,” she said to him, “I’m okay. Don’t cry.”
“Get up,” Jorge screamed at them.
She staggered to her feet, hoping to avoid another debilitating blow. Pain shot through her thigh, and she fell when she put weight on the leg he kicked.
She now entertained no hope of their coming out of this alive.
Pandemonium reigned at the police station. Dominic found Connie Lascano buried behind people gathered around her desk three deep. She was standing, carrying on a conversation with the woman closest to her.
“The water is rising in the river,” she said to the woman, “so you won’t have much time. Better leave now.”
The woman in tears turned and pushed through the crowd, a man following her.
Dominic used the space created by their departure to wedge into Connie’s attention zone. She was now on a walkie-talkie.
“All right. Come back in then.” She clicked off. “Who’s next?”
Dominic butted in front of everyone. “Elena and Miguel are gone. They disappeared from the clinic. I asked Elena to stay, and I know she would have if she could. Someone has kidnapped her. Maybe that guy from the hotel.”
Connie’s face was parked in a permanent frown. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“She, Miguel and I were riding out the storm at the clinic and during the lull I went outside to see if I could be of assistance and when I got back they were gone.”
“Maybe she went out to check on things. Maybe something happened, and she went for help.”
“I thought about that,” he said, “but that’s not like Elena. At least, I don’t think it is. She’d have stayed put. I have a bad feeling about this. Can you spare someone to help me search? Someone who knows the area well?”
Connie sank into her chair. The damp and bedraggled looking crowd before her all started talking at once.
She held up her hand. “Silencio, por favor. I’ll be right with you.”
She looked at Dominic but what he saw on her face was not encouraging.
“We were unable to find this guy Jorge at the hotel. The clerk said that no one by that name or description was registered.”
“Oh, no,” said Dominic. Dear God, let them be safe.
“We picked up the yellow car with only one headlight parked on the street near the hotel. It’s a stolen car.”
Fear cut through Dominic’s gut, burned and zigzagged its way to his heart.
“Do you have any leads?” he asked. “Do you know who the guy is?”
She ran both hands back over her hair which was barely contained in the ponytail she wore. Dominic noticed for the first time the lines of strain around her mouth, the dark shadows under her eyes.
“Nothing.” She sighed. “Elena or her mother might be able to identify him through photos. But we have to get through this storm first.”
“Can you spare anybody to help me look for her?” he asked again, trying hard not to sound desperate, but he had to have help. There wasn’t much time.
Connie looked around her, like extra help might miraculously show up at any moment. She threw up her hands. “You see how crazy it is.”
“Connie, he’s a murderer.”
“Okay, okay. I can’t leave, I wish I could. I’ll give you two plainclothes guys who’ve been working the case. Now all I need is to find them.”
“Paco, José,” she shouted to be heard above the din of the crowd.
Two men in jeans and T-shirts, looking as harried as their boss, appeared from behind the crowd.
“Elena Palomares and the little boy, Miguel, have disappeared, and that guy I had you tracking down might be involved. Go with Dominic to help find them.”
“Sí, sí, inspector,” said Paco.
“This guy might be the killer we’re looking for.”
“We’ll find them,” said José.
“Good, get going,” Connie turned back to help the next person in the crowd clamoring at her desk.
Paco stopped Dominic at the open door. Lightning flashed in the clouds off in the distance, outlining the mountains. A rumble of thunder shook the building. Hurricane Bob was circling Copan Ruinas.
“Describe this man again,” Paco said. José crowded close to listen.
“He’s tall, thin, dark hair. That’s what Elena told me. Miguel, who saw the murder, says the guy was tall and thin. Not a Honduran type.”
“Spaniard type, perhaps?” said José.
Dominic nodded. He repeated what he thought had happened. He described Elena and Miguel and what they were wearing.
“I know this lady. She’s very pretty,” said Paco. “Let’s go first to the clinic. Maybe they have returned, if we are lucky.”
As far as Dominic was concerned, luck didn’t have much to do with it. They were in the hands of the Almighty.
He led the way, dodging obstacles, guided by intermittent moonlight and his flashlight. He fought to control fear and to keep his head clear. He tried to imagine where Elena and Miguel might have gone, and how he could find them. He was terrified he might never again see them alive.
Jorge forced them to run along a narrow bush trail threaded with vines. Elena limped on her injured leg and held fast to Miguel who ran beside her, his little legs pumping to keep up.
“Faster.” Jorge shouted, and he punched the nose of the gun into her back.
Her head was swimming from the blow from the gun, and she could feel her cheek swelling without even touching it. One eye was partially closed. Rain spattered them and made it impossible to see. She ran on adrenalin and sheer terror.
Little Miguel kept glancing up at her. She knew he was concerned about her face, and she had made him run on her good side. He seemed paralyzed with fright, and she had to keep tugging him along. She didn’t know this path to the Park. But Miguel did. Jorge, too. That’s how they had traveled back and forth to town without anyone seeing them.
Thank heaven for the moon. There was enough light to see the trail but that wouldn’t last long. She could see the lightning around the mountains, and thunder reverberated along the ground. They were captives of a madman in a hurricane without shelter. Hell couldn’t be much worse than this.
Dominic, Paco and José divided up and searched every inch of the clinic for clues.
Paco found mud stains from a man’s shoes under the open window at the back of the clinic. Dominic’s theory that a man was involved appeared correct although it gave him no comfort. The man was wearing some type of athletic shoe or boot with deep groves in the sole, caked with mud.