Day 18 – Monday morning, Feast of Stephen
Forbes residence
Ginny drummed her fingers on the breakfast table, thinking hard. “What will lure a frightened woman out of hiding?”
“Her child, of course.” Jim helped himself to another mound of scrambled eggs. “Where is Luis, anyway?”
“Back in the shelter.” Ginny’s brow furrowed, returning to her puzzle. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but Maria dumped him at the hospital and disappeared, which implies she thought he’d be safer away from her.”
“But she called yesterday.”
Ginny sighed at the memory of Luis sobbing himself to sleep. Maria alive and in hiding was better than Maria dead, but not much, for the child involved. “What did she say to him?”
Jim shook his head. “I don’t know. All I heard was Luis’ side of the conversation and my Spanish is only good enough to catch one word out of three. I think he was saying he wanted her to come home, or he wanted to go home.”
Ginny nodded. “Well, at least she knows he’s alive.”
Jim settled back in his chair, nursing his coffee. “I wonder if we can use that to our advantage.”
“How?”
“You told her we wanted to help. She might have heard you or she might not have.”
“And she might not have believed me.”
“Right. Here’s my point. What she did hear was a frantic Luis. If she thinks we’re not being nice to him, maybe she’ll come to the rescue.”
Ginny nodded slowly. “I would, if it were my child.” She chewed on her lip. “So how do we contact her?”
“If the feds can trace that call, they can try following her.”
“If she has any sense, she’ll have ditched that phone. We need another way.” Ginny’s brow furrowed. “I think I have an idea, but I’m not sure it’s a good one.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“An Amber Alert.”
Jim frowned. “Those public service announcements that tell the entire world a child is missing?”
“Yes, those. If Maria is within reach of a highway or a computer or a cellphone, she’ll get the message.”
“They’re designed to enlist the public as extra eyes and ears. We don’t want everyone looking for Maria, just us.”
“I know. That’s not what I had in mind. Maybe we can send a message to her. ‘Call this number. Luis needs you.’ Something of that sort.”
“Get a secured line and have her call in, to arrange a rendezvous?”
“Yes.”
Jim nodded slowly. “It might work, but she’s going to think it’s a trap.”
“It is a trap. We want to catch her so we can put her in protective custody. It will have to be clear she must risk the trap to save Luis.”
“We can’t threaten that child. He’s been through enough already.”
“I know that, but Maria doesn’t, and she seems to have a pretty poor opinion of authority figures.”
“It’s worth a try.” Jim rose and headed for the front door. He turned on the threshold. “Grandfather asked me to remind you to stay home today. He’ll catch up with you this afternoon. And, if I may be allowed to make a suggestion, you look like you could use some more sleep.”
She nodded. She hadn’t been really injured in the assassination attempt, just spooked, but he was right that she needed sleep. That had been hard to come by. She watched Jim climb into his car and drive off, nodded to the policemen in the patrol car parked out front, then closed the door and headed upstairs.
* * *
Monday morning, Feast of Stephen
Forbes residence
Ginny set the phone down and leaned back in her chair. Detective Tran had been very cooperative. She could issue the Amber Alert, but she would need to know when and what to say. Whatever they arranged, it would need a point person, someone Maria would be willing to listen to. What people in her life might she trust?
Phyllis, obviously, since Maria dropped Luis at Hillcrest based on Phyllis’ recommendation. Not the police, since she didn’t go to them, which implied she had something to hide—or something to fear.
Did she run because of someone or something at her job? Luis had identified Marge Hawkins as a bad woman who made his mother cry. That meant Maria and Marge had been face to face at least once. But did Maria know Marge worked at Hillcrest? Would she have dropped her son off there if she had known?
Luis had also said the fentanyl patches were for his mother. Which made it sound like someone was giving Maria counterfeit drugs. The only place a nurse would use narcotic patches was on the job. (Unless she was a drug addict and wanted them to feed her own habit, in which case the fakes were worthless.) Maybe Maria was supposed to swap the fakes for the genuine narcotics. There was a thought!
If true and Luis had interrupted her supply, maybe Maria was in trouble. Would whoever was behind a scheme like that forgive Maria for misplacing an envelope full of fake drugs? Or would they make an example of her?
Ginny sighed. If Maria’s job was tied to the fake drugs, and Maria believed losing an envelope full of them would get her or Luis killed, it was unlikely she would look to a coworker for help.
Nor family and friends. That would be the first place an enemy would look. The inhabitants of that apartment complex would close ranks against an outsider, but they would talk to one another, and among the other children would be an obvious place to look for Luis.
Who else would Maria have contact with? The school? Did Luis have play dates? What other mothers had Maria spoken to? Or Phyllis, for that matter. Ginny suddenly wondered if Detective Tran had asked any questions at Luis’ school. She picked up the phone again, but this time she dialed John Kyle.
Ten minutes later she hung up the phone, having found out what school Joey Kyle attended, that the police had not asked John for that information, and that the school was still closed for the Christmas holiday, so it was unlikely that anyone had been interviewed by the authorities. Ginny moved to the computer.
The school, Mater Dolorosa Montessori, was attached both physically and metaphorically to the Roman Catholic Church of Mater Dolorosa. It appeared to be a large, prosperous parish. There were lots of children in the posted images.
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. If Maria attended services at this church, which made geographic sense (based on the location of her apartment) and would explain why her child was enrolled there, and if she and the clergy followed traditional Roman Catholic practices, then she would obey instructions from her padre. He would be someone she would trust.
They would need the padre’s cooperation, of course. Ginny looked up his name, tried calling, found all the phones on voice mail (it was the day after Christmas after all), then decided to drive over and see if she could find anyone to talk to.
She paused for a moment to consider her instructions to stay home. There was no one at the church who knew her, and it wouldn’t take long. All she wanted was someone who would tell her how to reach Father Ignacio Allende on his day off.
It was probably a wild goose chase anyway. She would probably find the doors locked and the lights out. She might be wrong about where Maria attended divine service (if at all), and Father Ignacio might refuse to help.
She wrestled with her conscience for a moment longer, then scribbled a note to her mother, grabbed her purse, slipped out the back, and headed for Mater Dolorosa.
* * *
Monday midmorning, Feast of Stephen
Mater Dolorosa Roman Catholic Church
Ginny worked her way around the edifice, trying every door. She found the kitchen unguarded. There was evidence of clean-up in progress, but no one in sight. She set off into the main body of the church, poking her nose into a series of empty chapels and meeting rooms.
She turned a corner and found a charming little fountain, the water stilled because it was a holiday and no public should have been in that place, but the greenery was flourishing, and the sight that met her eyes delighted her soul. In the middle of the fountain, on a marble plinth, stood a carved statue of Saint Michael slaying the dragon. His face was beatific in repose, his consecrated strength undisputed. One hand held the sword, plunged into the throat of the beast. The other gestured toward heaven.
In the space between the white marble fingers and thumb of the hand indicating the seat of divine power was wedged a coin. Someone, probably a daring child, had braved the waters and climbed the plinth and left an offering to God.
Ginny dug a coin out of her purse and tossed it into the fountain, with a silent prayer for Maria and Luis. As if in answer, she heard the sound of a door opening. She turned and followed it.
She tapped on the open doorframe. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Father Ignacio, and I’m hoping you can help me.”
The eyes that met hers were astonished and unfriendly.
“How did you get in?”
“Through the kitchen.” Ginny watched the two men exchange an uneasy glance.
“We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.” Their English was intelligible, though obviously not their native tongue.
Ginny nodded. “I understand, but there is some urgency. I want to speak to Father Ignacio about a woman in trouble, and I was hoping you could tell me how to reach him at home.”
“Confessions on Tuesday and Thursday. Make an appointment. Tomorrow.”
Ginny shook her head. “I don’t mean that kind of trouble. This woman is in danger for her life. We’re hoping the padre can persuade her to trust us.”
They both shook their heads. “We cannot help you.”
Ginny looked at the implacable expressions on their faces and decided she would get no further with them. She sighed, apologized for the disturbance, and turned to go. As she did so, her eye fell on a pair of men coming down the corridor toward the office, one bearing a striking resemblance to the picture of Father Ignacio she had seen online.
She stepped into their path and waited to be acknowledged, her eye drawn automatically to the second man, seeing one shoulder higher than the other, and tentatively diagnosing it as scoliosis. She let the thought slip from her mind as he moved back the way he had come. She turned her attention to the priest.
The two men from the office hurried to get between her and her quarry. They spoke rapidly in Spanish and Ginny saw the padre frown, his eyes on her. She saw also that the two minions were frightened. They were apologizing, pleading, excusing themselves. She did not need to understand the language to read the message. With an impatient wave of his hand, he stopped them and sent them away, then approached her.
“Father Ignacio Allende?” She introduced herself, apologized for the intrusion, and described her errand. At first he was as unhelpful as his staff, but when she explained there was a child involved, one who needed to be reunited with his mother, Father Ignacio seemed to become interested. He invited her into his office.
“This child was abandoned at the hospital?”
“With a note from his mother saying she would be back, but we were beginning to be afraid she was dead.”
“Why have you changed your mind?”
“She telephoned yesterday.”
“She is alive, then.”
“Or was, twenty-four hours ago.” Ginny explained again how urgent it was to coax Maria Perez out of hiding so she could be protected from whatever it was that was threatening her. “Will you help us?”
Father Ignacio smiled and nodded. “Willingly, my child. What do you need from me?”
A half hour later, Ginny took her leave, convinced she had never met a more charming clergyman in her life. Once he grasped the situation, Father Ignacio could not have been more understanding, more full of useful suggestions, more concerned for his parishioner. Yes, Maria was one of his flock and of course she must be rescued. That’s what a shepherd did.
Ginny got into her car and headed home. DeSoto first, then Tran would need to be notified and both would probably want to meet Father Ignacio, but it could work. If Maria would just cooperate, they could get her back and Luis back into her arms. Suddenly, the promise of Saint Michael’s upraised hand seemed to reach out to touch the endeavor. With the Lord’s help, he seemed to be saying, anything was possible.
* * *