Sounds of Silence (11 page)

Where was Danilo? It was almost a let-down to simply pick up the red-and-white can, smack it against the concrete floor, and know that she’d won the game.

There was the tack room. She tried the door and found it locked. Alarm bumped under her ribs. She wondered if she could find her way back to the house in the dark alone.

Isabel jerked awake at a knock on the guest bedroom door. She looked at the clock and saw with a start that it was nearly nine o’clock. She’d been so tired after supper that she’d taken Rand up on his offer of entertaining the children, and promptly fallen asleep. She should have had Danilo and Mercedes in the bathtub long ago.

She jerked open the door. “Pam! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so long, I hope the kids haven’t—” Then Pamela’s stricken expression registered. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, Isabel,” Pamela burst out, “we’ve looked everywhere for him.”

“What?” Isabel’s stomach dropped. “Are you talking about Danilo?”

“Yes! I’m sorry, I’m so—” Pamela’s voice broke. “I can’t even think. We’ve been looking for him for the last half hour, and I guess we need your help. I could just strangle Rand, he was supposed to be watching them, but he got a phone call—”

“How long has he been gone?”

“We—we don’t know exactly. Rand had them out in the barn looking at a new litter of kittens. He says they were playing a game, and one minute they were both right there, the next they weren’t.”

Isabel wanted to scream with fear. “You mean Mercedes is missing, too?”

“No, she’s right downstairs. She walked all the way back to the house by herself in the dark, so I called Rand to find out what happened to him and Danilo.” Pamela’s voice shook as she continued. “I didn’t want to wake you if it was, you know, a false alarm, so I took Mercedes with me and drove back to the barn to help look for Danilo.”

“And you didn’t find him,” Isabel said stupidly.
Oh, Lord in heaven, my little boy! Not my little one.
“Okay, call the police right now, while I talk to Mercedes.” She stopped. Eli should know about this before she did anything else. “Wait.” She sucked in a lungful of air.
Calm down.
“Pamela, don’t do anything until I call Eli. Have Rand keep looking, though.”

“All right.” Pamela sounded doubtful of Isabel’s sanity.

Isabel knew she sounded crazy, and she
felt
out of control. Shaking, she dialed Eli’s cell phone number.

Flailing legs kicked Pablo’s knees as he ran across the pasture with his hand clapped across the child’s mouth. He knew he only had a few moments to get his victim to the car and away from here.

After following the Valenzuela woman and the two children from the hospital, he and his men had been forced to skulk around the perimeter of the estate. Rand Hatcher would not deign to return his calls. But after several hours of watching the house through binoculars, he’d finally seen the rancher take the two children to the barn. Realizing it might be his only opportunity to get near the girl, he’d followed.

Now, running full-tilt, he called on every ounce of the strict conditioning with which he maintained his body. After all that waiting, it had been ridiculously easy to snatch her as she ran around the barn straight into his arms. He planned how he would grab the rope and duct tape out of the trunk, tie her up, and leave her there for the trip across the border.

When he reached his car, Pablo took his hand off the child’s mouth long enough to reach for his car keys. That was when he discovered his mistake.

The child in his arms let out a bloodcurdling scream. “I’m gonna get you, you villain!”

Pablo found the presence of mind to clap his hand over the boy’s mouth, even as white-hot rage all but blinded him. Incoherent thoughts swirled as he completed, by rote, the actions he’d planned to restrain his captive. It had been dark, he excused himself. The child’s silence had led him to believe it was the mute little girl. The two children were nearly the same size.

Staring down at the boy, now lying in the trunk with his hands and feet tied, duct tape firmly strapped across the lower part of his face, Pablo could hear him sniffling, a pathetic sound which bothered him not one whit. He slammed the lid of the trunk.

He had to get away from here. It would be all right. He would simply trade the boy for the girl. What mother would refuse to trade a street urchin for her own flesh and blood?

Chapter Ten

E
li woke up groaning. He was going to throw that cell phone into the river next chance he got. He turned his head, trying to find a more comfortable place on the pillow.

Jagged-edged pain nearly split him in two.

“Carmichael. Come on, we gotta get you out of here before this thing blows up.”

“Temio?” Eli winced at the sound of his own voice. Artemio had the door of the SUV open, trying to disengage Eli’s seat belt. Trouble was, he was upside down and bleeding like a pig in a butcher shop window. “What happened? You all right?” At least the phone had quit ringing.

“Yeah. Air bag caught me.”

After one more brain-jarring yank, Eli fell out of the vehicle into Artemio’s arms and he passed out again.

Sometime later he woke up again with paramedics crawling all over him. “Temio?” he croaked.

“Right here, man,” said Petrarca from somewhere behind the crowd of EMTs. “You been making enemies while I wasn’t looking. Better cool your jets for a while.”

“Did they catch the guy who hit us?”

“Abandoned his car. We lost him.”

“What about the car? Registration?”

“Stolen,” Artemio said shortly. “Would you shut up and let the police worry about it? There’s a pretty good sized goose egg on your head, man.”

“Lie still, Agent Carmichael,” said an exasperated paramedic. “We’re going to load you up and take you to the hospital.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Carmichael, I promise I’ll check on Isabel,” said Artemio.

“Where’s my phone? It was ringing a minute ago.” Eli felt himself being lifted. He was strapped to the gurney like a mummy. “Wait!” he shouted. Only it came out like a doggone whisper. “I’m not going anywhere until I know who was calling—”

“All right, hold up, guys,” said Artemio. “Let me just check his phone before you take him.” Eli could hear him muttering about being an answering service. After a moment he said in surprise, “It was Isabel.”

With a supreme effort Eli opened his eyes and glared at the EMT at the foot of the gurney. “If you don’t let me off this thing
right now
and give me my phone, I’m gonna make sure you’re fired.”

The EMT, about two hundred pounds of solid muscle, laughed. “Yeah, and I’ll be a lot more likely to get fired if I
do
unstrap you. Knock it off, dude, you’re off to the ER.”

“Artemio, call her” was all Eli had time to say before they slid him into the back of the ambulance and slammed the doors.

All the way to the hospital, he worried, prayed, and gritted his teeth to keep from throwing up. Artemio was right about one thing. Eli had made somebody angry enough to try to kill him outright. Which meant that Isabel and Mercedes were in the crosshairs, too.

By the time he’d been examined by a harried young ER doc and shot full of enough antibiotics to ward off the bubonic plague, Eli was ready to deck somebody. Then his brother ambled into the room dressed in dusty denims.

“Where have you been?” Eli snarled.

“Working the horses. Unlike some people, I have a life.” Owen removed his hat and bumped the dust off against his leg. “Hear you had a tough day.”

“Where’s Artemio? Has anybody called Isabel yet?”

“Well aren’t you the romantic hero?” Owen grinned. “Don’t think she’d be too impressed with your looks at the moment.”

Eli glared at his brother. “I’m feeling much better thanks. And if they don’t unplug me from this IV in about ten seconds, I’m going to do it myself. Go get the nurse.”

Owen whistled. “Okay, this would be a good time to breathe. The nurse it is.”

He was back in a moment with the RN, who gave Owen a disapproving sniff and marched over to unhook Eli’s drip. “The doctor says you can go now.”

“Is Artemio Petrarca around?” Eli asked the nurse.

“The little guy with the cell phone? I threw him out thirty minutes ago.” The nurse picked up Eli’s wrist to feel for his pulse.

“Threw him out?” Eli yelped.

“He’s standing out under the canopy smoking,” said Owen.

“Well, go—”

“—get him,” Owen finished with Eli. “Why didn’t you say so when I went out the first time?”

“No cell phones in here,” the nurse informed Eli. “Interferes with the equipment.”

“No problem, I’m leaving.” Eli sat up to button his shirt.

“Just make sure you change the dressing on that cut on your head tomorrow. It should heal in a couple of days.” The nurse fixed Eli with a minatory stare. “No driving tonight.”

Owen came in just then with Artemio in tow. “I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Owen said.

Artemio tossed Eli his cell phone, tacitly daring the nurse to object. “I talked to Isabel,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Bad news, man. Her boy’s missing.”

Isabel had to get out of the house, away from Pamela’s concern and guilt. She walked out onto the deck, avoiding the lighted pool area in favor of the shadows of the yard. Opening the gate, she stepped down off the deck and headed for the grassy area between the pool and the lake.

Danilo still hadn’t turned up.

And according to Artemio Petrarca, Eli was in the hospital after someone had run him off the road.

Crazy. I’m crazy, Lord. I’m so angry and upset and…

She bowed her head. “I don’t know what to do,” she said out loud. Somehow she felt better, admitting her weakness and confusion. “I thought it was over when Rico died. I thought nothing else bad would happen to me for the rest of my life. Didn’t you say death is the big sting?”

No. She remembered now. The Word said, “Death, where is your sting?” In Christ, death lost its power.

It was getting through
life
that put you in the crucible.

Isabel fell to her knees in the grass and pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, God, where’s my baby?” she groaned. She couldn’t even cry, had no tears left. Dropping her hands, she looked up at the moon smiling down, silent and calm.

Where was God?

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when she felt a small hand on her head. With a thrilling start of hope, she looked around for Danilo.

Mercedes stood there, the warm, dry night breeze blowing her long black hair around.

I’m scared
, she signed.
Where’s Danilo?

Isabel stifled her own pain and pulled the little girl into her lap, hugging her tightly. “I don’t know,” she whispered, even though Mercedes couldn’t hear the words.

Mercedes pulled back and pressed her palms together.
Prayer.

“Yes. I’m praying.” Isabel enfolded Mercedes’s small hands in hers. What else could she do? “Lord, I feel so weak. I want to believe You’ll bring Danilo back to me. I don’t want to be afraid.”

She thought about Eli’s suggestion of “spouting Scripture.” If she’d ever been under attack it was now. Somehow, though, she couldn’t think of a single Bible verse.

At four o’clock in the morning, Eli found Isabel sound asleep on the Hatchers’ living room sofa, the phone tucked under her cheek. Pamela had let him in, then retired to the kitchen to make coffee.

He woke Isabel gently, but she jerked upright as if she’d been having nightmares.

“Eli! Did you find him?”

Eli rubbed his thumb against the button impressions on her face. “No. Owen and I have been looking all night.” He sat down beside her and laid his head back against the sofa.

“You look awful.” He could feel her shifting closer, then her fingers brushed the edges of the bandage on his head. He wished he could lay his aching head in her lap and sleep for a year.

“Feel pretty rough.” He opened his eyes and found her close enough to kiss. Isabel in the morning. Pam had better get back in a hurry.

Then Isabel said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Cold water indeed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I came to see if you’d heard anything on Danilo.”

“We haven’t,” said Pamela, coming back in with three steaming mugs on a tray. Looking troubled, she offered the coffee to Isabel and Eli. “Rand thinks he may have just wandered off. There’s all kind of predators around here. Or he could have fallen into the lake.”

Eli noticed Isabel’s sudden pallor. “Pamela,” he said warningly, and looked around. “Is Rand still in bed?”

Pam frowned. “No. He left shortly after midnight. He knows people in the police department. I think he hoped he could speed things up.”

Something about that struck Eli as odd, but he couldn’t put his finger on just what. “Every search-and-rescue team in the county’s on it.”

Pamela sniffed. “Forgive me if I don’t have a lot of faith in our local police. Or the Border Patrol.”

“They’re doing the best they can.” Isabel laid her hand on Eli’s wrist, and he glanced at her in surprise. Her eyes looked bruised, but there was a light in them that made him admire her courage all over again. “They’ll find him.”

He hoped her confidence wasn’t misplaced. “Listen, the other reason I came by was to let you know we’re putting you under twenty-four-hour police protection. They’re sending over a woman who’s experienced in hostage situations.”

“Do you really think that’s necessary?” asked Pamela.

Eli just looked at her, then turned to Isabel. “I’ve got to go. Will you walk me to the door?”

She nodded and set her mug on the coffee table.

When they reached the front door, he looked down at her for a moment. “I take full responsibility for this,” he said quietly. “I thought you’d be safe enough here but—”

“Eli—”

“But I
will
get him back.” He reached in his pocket and showed her a tiny cell phone. “I want you to call me if you hear anything from a kidnapper. Tell Officer Beatty, of course, but—” He picked up Isabel’s hand and laid the phone in her palm. “Call me no matter what time it is. And keep Mercedes close.”

Isabel swallowed. “I will. What are you going to do?”

“Interview a couple of informants. Check in at the station.” Reluctantly he opened the door. He wished he had the right to tell her he loved her. “Get some sleep, okay?” Isabel uttered a humorless laugh. “I’ll try.”

He heard the lock click behind him as he left.

Isabel spent the hour after Eli left on her knees beside her bed. She prayed for Danilo’s safety. She prayed for Eli and the police to have wisdom. She prayed for her own strength of mind and spirit. Peace seemed like some foreign language, one she’d heard about but only vaguely understood. The phone rang a couple of times, and each time Isabel nearly jumped out of her skin.

The third time it shrilled, she didn’t look up until the door opened. Pamela stood in the doorway with a cordless phone clutched to her chest. “Isabel, it’s for you.”

“For me?” Isabel felt like the victim of a fever-inducing infection. Her eyes ached from crying, her forehead felt tight, and her body moved sluggishly as she got to her feet. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know.” Pamela looked apprehensive. “He wouldn’t identify himself.” She handed the phone to Isabel and backed away reluctantly. “Let me know if I can do anything.”

“Thanks.” Isabel waited until Pamela had closed the door again before she put the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Valenzuela? I have your little boy.”

Isabel sat down hard on the bed. The deep voice was electronically distorted, unrecognizable. “Who is this?” she whispered.

The caller did not answer her question. “Give me the deaf girl, and you can have the boy back,” he said. “Keep everybody else out of it or he dies.”

Isabel’s vision blurred. “I can’t get out of the house. They’re sending a guard.”

“I will call again at midnight with final instructions. If you tell anyone you talked to me, I will know, and I will kill your son.”

Isabel was incapable of answering.

“Mrs. Valenzuela, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she made herself say.

“Good. Do you have a cell phone?”

She had the one Eli had given her this morning. Cruel irony that she had to use it for this purpose. “Yes, I have one.”

“Put it on vibrate mode so that you will awaken no one when I call. Go into a closet to answer. What is the number?”

“Just a minute.” Isabel fumbled to look up the unfamiliar number and read it to the hateful person on the end of the line.

“Good. Remember, midnight. Nobody is to know.” The phone clicked in her ear, followed by a dial tone.

Isabel squeezed the phone in numb hands and sank to her knees beside the bed. Nobody could help her. Rico was dead. Eli unavailable. Even God seemed very far away.

Mercedes stood in the bedroom doorway, watching Isabel on her knees praying.

She wished she could get rid of Isabel’s worry and sadness. Danilo was such a baby, always getting in trouble. He didn’t know how good he had it. If Mercedes had a mother like Isabel, she’d never do
anything
wrong.

She’d crept down the stairs this morning and watched Eli talking to Isabel. He’d had that
look
on his face, like a knight in one of the fairy tales her teacher had read to the class last year. Americans were always bringing junk across the border and leaving it for people to pick through. Sometimes there were beautiful things like that old book. The cover had fallen off, but the pictures…

Mercedes had pored over those pictures every time she could get away with it, and she had even copied some into her tablet. Ladies with long golden hair, princes with flowing capes—even the wicked witches and ogres had captured her imagination and made her hungry for paints like those used by the artists.

Isabel understood that hunger and let her draw whenever she felt like it. Isabel praised her pictures, and seemed amazed that such a poor little girl could produce them.

Well, sometimes even Mercedes herself was surprised by what appeared on the paper. And frightened.

Isabel and Mercedes were sitting side-by-side at the coffee table in the family room, coloring in a new coloring book when Officer Phyllis Beatty arrived. A neat, middle-aged woman with improbably black hair and a cigarette smoker’s wrinkles, she dropped her small overnight case in the foyer and shook Isabel’s hand.