“Judging by these partial sandal prints, it looks like two people left by the side door,” said Paco. “The question is, where did they go after that? And where is the boy?”
Dominic said, “There’s more water than mud in the streets. Where would he encounter this kind of mud in the storm?”
“He’d have to leave the confines of town,” said Paco, “where everything is concrete. If there are only two sets of prints, maybe one of them was carrying the boy.”
The three of them stood huddled by the back door peering at the floor where Paco’s flashlight illuminated the shoe prints. Outside, the wind approached howling stage and spurts of rain blew in.
“I doubt the man came from the main entrance to town,” said Paco. “We found the car abandoned on this side, if it’s the same guy. If we can find where he was hiding during the first half of the hurricane that might be where he took Elena and Miguel.”
“Where do the roads turn to dirt on this side of town?” ask Dominic.
“There are two paved residential streets,” José said, “that dead end.”
“There are those two,” said Paco, “and the road to the Guatemala border, and the road to Los Sapos. They are all paved. Maybe he was using a dirt path from some hiding place to come into town. Where would be a good hiding place for someone like him in a hurricane?”
José said, “He could have broken into any number of houses where owners left because of the storm.”
“But those would not have mud,” said Dominic. “Most of the homes around here are well manicured.”
“Wait a minute,” said Paco, tapping his forehead. “What about that abandoned warehouse on the road to Los Sapos that sits back off the road, hidden by the brush. It’s not far, and he could have found shelter there. The homeless boys take refuge there sometimes.”
“I know the place,” said Dominic. “It’s worth a look.” Hope began to shine through the dark clouds of the hurricane. “Let’s go.” He headed out the door with the other two close behind.
“Wait,” Paco said. “We can’t walk there in this weather. We can’t drive there either. Too many obstacles in the road.”
José said, “We have bicycles at the police station. We can use them.”
He led the way to the police station and around to the rear where a stand of bikes was located. He brought out a key ring and searched for keys to the bike locks. He managed to get two unlocked. Dominic jumped on one, Paco on the other, and they took off. Neither stopped to see if José was following.
Dominic peddled with everything in him, squinting his eyes against the rain that came in squalls. He was soaked, but the ever increasing wind and blowing rain cooled his hot skin. His anxiety and fear for Elena and Miguel burned in him like hot coal. He had no fear of Hurricane Bob. What could happen to Elena and Miguel made him peddle faster and faster and faster. An occasional flash of lightning or a glimpse of a cloud-troubled moon lighted his path off and on. Still he peddled faster.
Paco pulled up beside him and passed, showing the way to the abandoned warehouse. They wove around garbage cans, around downed poles, around pieces of roofing and at one point sailed across a small ditch swollen with rushing water.
Dominic had a good idea where the warehouse was. It was well hidden from the passing traveler in a car but someone on foot might see it, if they knew what they were looking for. Elena and Miguel had to be there. They had to be safe. They had to be.
The two men stopped some distance from the warehouse. The rain beat on their heads, and Paco said, “The door is open on this side. Dominic, watch that door. I’m going around back to see if there’s an entrance. Our exposure is too great if we try to go in on this side.”
Dominic nodded, edged closer to the building and stood behind the cover of the trees at the border of the small clearing. He had a good view of the open door, which appeared to be an old cargo door. It had a tall, wide opening. A wind gust pushed him sideways, and he hugged the nearest tree for support. He had never been outside in a hurricane. He imagined Elena and Miguel inside. At least they were out of the elements. They had to be in there, he kept saying to himself over and over. They had to be.
Before long Paco appeared at the door and waved Dominic over. He didn’t know what to think as he ran through the rain.
“What?” Dominic said when he gained the inside. “Are they here?”
Paco shook his head. His eyes would not make contact, and Dominic’s heart sank.
“What?” said Dominic, fighting down the urge to shake Paco. He scanned the inside of the warehouse but could see only dim outlines of boxes and crates strewn helter-skelter like the hurricane had whipped through the place.
“I found blood. I’m sorry. Come. Look. Better I show you.”
Dominic could barely put one foot in front of the other. Paco had found blood but no bodies. They could still be alive.
Paco showed him a large metal storage cabinet, maybe an old grain bin. Maybe big enough for two small humans. He pointed to the floor.
“There,” he said.
Dominic crouched down and studied the drops on the floor. Dark red drops.
“What do you think?” Dominic had trouble forming the words, his throat was so tight.
Paco didn’t respond. He pointed the flashlight on the floor around the box. Clumps of mud spotted the floor. A mixture of shoe prints cut into the clumps.
“I judge those mud prints to be the same as the clinic. I’m speculating that someone brought Elena and Miguel here not very long ago. One of them is hurt, and for some reason they left.”
“Did you make a thorough search? Maybe they’re tied and gagged in one of these old crates.”
Paco rubbed the back of his neck. It was obvious the strain of the day was catching up with him. “We’ll search, but the stuff in here hasn’t been disturbed in a long time.”
Each taking half of the space, they covered every inch of the dirty old warehouse. Dominic swept his flashlight by every crevice. In the end he had to agree with Paco. Nothing had disturbed the accumulated dirt for a long time, except in one corner, which was the driest, where he found an open empty crate lined with cardboard that had served as a bed for someone. Maybe recently.
Disheartened, Dominic went to find Paco. He was standing near the opening watching the storm toss the fronds of a palm tree around like a whirligig.
“Nothing,” Paco said. “You?”
Dominic shook his head. “They’re not here. Then where?”
He tossed the question to the wind wondering if it would respond. Where were Elena and Miguel, and who was hurt? The boy had to be with them.
Paco didn’t answer the question. “I wonder why José did not come. Maybe he got held up at the station.”
Dominic didn’t answer. He didn’t care about José. He wanted to find Elena and Miguel. How were they going to do that in a hurricane?
Paco asked, “Do you know why that guy might want the two of them?”
“That question has been gnawing at me,” said Dominic. “I knew Miguel was in danger because he saw the murder, and the murderer saw him. I had an uneasy feeling about Elena. She was visible and worked at the ruins. I think whoever this is thinks she knows something. Maybe. I don’t know. But he might think she knows something.”
Paco put his hand on Dominic’s arm. “Wait. You say she might know something. About what? Who committed the murders?”
Dominic pursed his lips. “Not exactly. She knows a lot about that Hieroglyphic Staircase, and someone was stealing stones from it. Her knowledge is about the ruins, not about the people involved.”