I eyed the man who’d spoken for Rainy, feeling a great urge to pull the trigger of the Winchester, and not just because of the threatening gun in his hand.
He was tall, powerfully built, with a face so damn good-looking it could have been taken from a Hollywood movie poster. His hair in the candlelight was black and shiny, polished onyx. He wore a black T-shirt stretched across the kind of chest that would have made a weight lifter proud. His pants and running shoes were black as well, as was that pistol he still held trained on me.
“Husband?” I said.
“Ex-husband,” Rainy clarified.
“In the eyes of the church, mi amor, we are married for eternity.”
“What about Consuela?” Rainy said. “In the eyes of the church, wouldn’t that make you a bigamist?”
He shrugged. “Solomon had hundreds of wives.”
“Are you all right, Rainy?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You can put that rifle down.”
In the candlelight, I studied the face of this man who was a stranger to me, but far from a stranger to Rainy. At the same time, he was studying me. At last he nodded, and I returned the gesture, and we both lowered our weapons.
“This is Gilbert Mondragón, Cork,” Rainy said. “Berto, meet Cork O’Connor.”
“I’ve heard about you,” Mondragón said.
“Let me talk to him, Berto. Explain things.”
He thought it over, leaned to Rainy, and kissed her hair. “I’ll wait outside, querida.”
When he’d left, Rainy said, “Let’s sit.”
She set the candle, which was secured in an antique brass holder, on the altar rail, and we took the first pew. For a moment, Rainy just sat there, her head lowered, her face a flickering of shadows in the inconstant light.
“This is the drug-addicted, low-life ex-husband you never talk about? A man so loathsome to you that you’ve never even mentioned his name in my presence? Ancient history, you’ve always insisted.”
“There are things you didn’t need to know before, Cork. That’s changed.”
“Clearly. So what’s the real story?”
“I met Berto when I first enrolled at U of A,” she began.
“Berto? You said his name is Gilbert. What kind of name is Gilbert for a Mexican?”
“He’ll tell you he’s Spanish, not Mexican. And he’s only half Spanish. His mother was an American citizen, which makes him a citizen, too. She loved Gilbert Roland. Some old movie star. Do you remember him?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Vaguely.”
“So that’s what’s on his birth certificate. But he prefers the Spanish name Gilberto. Or Berto. I was eighteen when we met. He was twenty. We fell in love. I became pregnant with my first child, Chantelle. I thought when you were pregnant, getting married was what you did. So we married.”
“Catholic wedding, apparently.”
“A quiet one. He didn’t want his parents to know.”
“Why?”
“They had another bride picked out for him. His family is powerful, Cork. They wanted him to marry the daughter of another powerful family.”
“A political union?”
“Something like that. For a while, we lived a quiet life. Peter came along. Berto finished his undergraduate degree. Then we entered hell.”
“Your husband and a drug habit. That’s what you’ve always said.”
“That’s how I’ve always explained it to people. It’s easier than the truth.”
“What’s the truth?”
“The marriage his family had in mind was to have been a union of business interests, Cork. Not the kind of business you’d find listed on the New York Stock Exchange.”
“Drugs?”
“And everything that goes with drugs. But that wasn’t Berto. Do you know what he majored in at U of A? Social work. He wanted to help people, not prey on them.”
“So what happened?”
“While he was in graduate school, he began to get a lot of pressure from his family to return to his home in Mexico.”
“Which was where?”
“Outside Hermosillo.”
I gave her a blank look.
“It’s in the state of Sonora. A hundred and fifty miles south of the border. Things were getting difficult. The family was under attack from groups who wanted control of those particular business interests.”
“Berto resisted the pressure?”
She nodded. “But he kept being called back. First for short visits, then longer. He’d return looking grim. He never shared the details of what was happening. Which was fine with me. I had enough to worry about. I was practically raising the children alone. Then one night a man showed up at our door. A stranger to me, but Berto knew him. The family rancho had been attacked. Some of Berto’s family had been killed. His father had been shot. It didn’t look like he was going to make it. Berto had to go. The situation down there was dangerous, so I stayed with Chantelle and Peter. The stranger, a man whose name I only knew as El Perro, remained behind. For protection.”
Rainy sat back and breathed deeply. It was stiflingly hot in the sanctuary, and I watched sweat trickle down her temple and fall drop by drop onto the white blouse she wore, turning the fabric there a wet gray.
“Berto was gone all the next day. I heard no word from him. That night, El Perro told me he’d received instructions. He was to take us into the desert, where Berto would meet us. I asked him what was going on. Revolution, he told me.
“I gathered the children and we left with El Perro. I wasn’t sure what we might run into, so I took the Ruger Berto had given me.”
“What? An anniversary present?”
“When he began making his trips back to Hermosillo, he insisted on taking me out to a gun range. He taught me how to use firearms. First a handgun, the Ruger. Then rifles. He made me practice until I was very good.”
“Thoughtful of him,” I said.
“I wasn’t happy about it. But . . . it was a good thing in the end. El Perro drove us south and west, far into the desert. Then he stopped and told me we should get out and wait for Berto. The children were asleep in the backseat. I asked if it was all right not to wake them. He said to let them sleep. Nothing about this felt right. I couldn’t understand why Berto hadn’t contacted me directly. Why had the message come through El Perro? As I got out, I slid the Ruger from my purse. El Perro walked ahead of me. I remember there was a full moon that night. The whole desert was silver and cut with black shadows. I saw El Perro’s right hand move up toward his chest, where he wore a shoulder holster. He had a big silver ring on his pinkie, and I still remember how it flashed in the moonlight as his hand rose. He turned around suddenly. His gun was in his hand. But I’d had the Ruger aimed on him from the moment we left the car. I fired that gun until it was empty.”
She stared at the candle awhile. I waited.
“The children slept through it. I took his wallet so that he couldn’t be identified. There were a thousand U.S. dollars in it. I drove the car back to Tucson, directly to the bus station. I bought us all tickets to Hayward, Wisconsin.”
“And Berto?”
“It was, as El Perro said, a revolution. Berto and his father, who, in fact, survived, along with two of Berto’s brothers, somehow managed to hold out and hold on. It took him a while to find me. I’d already started divorce proceedings. He didn’t fight it. My safety, the safety of our children, he put those things first, I’ll give him that.”
“You haven’t seen him since?”
“We’ve communicated over the years. I’ve sent him photos of the kids. He stayed out of our lives, remarried, began another family. But I needed his help when Peter went through treatment.”
“Ah,” I said, finally understanding how Rainy could afford to send her son to a rehab center that charged $35,000 a month. “And what did that buy him with you, Rainy?”
She lifted her eyes to mine, and the deep despair I saw in them made me ashamed of my words.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was uncalled for.”
“The Berto I married, he was such a good man, Cork. This Berto I hardly recognize.”
The church door opened. Mondragón stepped in.
“So, preciosa, does he know all now?”
“Not all,” I said. “I’d like to know what happened at Jocko’s.”
Rainy’s first husband sat on the altar rail, next to the candleholder. Only a couple of years must have separated us in age, but he looked a decade younger than I felt. Except for his eyes. There was something old and tired about them.
“After Rainy’s call last night, I came as quickly as I could,” he said. “I caught up with you in Sulfur Springs.”
“I didn’t see you,” I said.
He smiled, perfect white teeth. “I’m good, huh? I followed you far enough back to keep off your radar. When you pulled into that old-timer’s ranch, I found a good place to watch with my binoculars. After you took off in the biplane, and the other man left in his pickup truck, Rainy was alone. I was going to show myself and discuss Peter’s situation. But I caught sight of someone sneaking through the tall grass south of the ranch house. He surprised Rainy. I could see he had a gun on her. When they started off in the direction he’d come from, I called Rainy. She talked him into letting her answer. I told her to drop the cell phone and bend to pick it up. When she went down, I took him out.”
“With that?” I nodded toward the pistol he still held.
He shook his head. “A scoped Weatherby.”
“Had he followed us, the way you did?”
Mondragón shook his head. “He might have been tracking Rainy’s cell phone.”
I understood now why it had been left behind in the bloodied grass.
“What did you do with the body?”
“I dropped it in the burial ground of the great Arizona desert, where the vultures and coyotes and ants will reduce it very quickly to nothing but bone.”
“Who was it?”
“No identification. That’s how it’s done. I’m sure it was one of Rodriguez’s men.”
Grudgingly I said, “Thanks.”
“I love her, too, Cork.” Then he smiled and shrugged. “Mother of my children.”
“What do you know about the Rodriguezes?”
“Jackals,” he said. “They operate crudely. In the grand scheme, they’re nothing. They like to believe that they control this area of the border and what crosses over it. The larger, more powerful interests allow them to go about their business here, but at a price.”
“Larger, more powerful interests? Other cartels?”
“Think of it as a feudal system, Cork. There are those who operate below the cartels but only with their blessing. Like the Rodriguezes. And below that are those who live on the scraps the Rodriguezes throw them.”
“What about your family?”
“We need no one’s blessing, and we live on no one’s scraps.”
The candle was burning low. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe in the hot, dead air of the sanctuary.
“You came alone?” I said.
“This is my business. My family—my family in Mexico—have no interest in my family here. In fact, if they knew what my son was up to, they might add to the bounty the Rodriguezes have already placed on his head. I didn’t know anything about Peter’s involvement in the Desert Angels until Rainy called me last night. Had I known earlier, I would have put an end to it myself.”
“He’s helping people who need help,” Rainy said.
“He’s interfering with a number of enterprises.”
“I remember a time when you would have applauded what he’s doing. Probably you would have helped.”
“That time is long past, querida.”
“So what now?” I said.
“It’s safest that Rainy stay with me. Those buitres will try again if they know she’s still alive.”
“What about Peter?” Rainy said.
“Until Peter makes his presence known, there’s nothing we can do.”
“Where will you go?” I asked.
“Best you don’t know, don’t you think?” Mondragón said. “They may still come after you to get to her. If nothing is what you know, nothing is what you can tell them.”
“Why do they want me?” Rainy said.
“I thought at first it was just pure revenge. That car bomb this morning. But I believe they understand now that you would make a good bargaining chip. They might be able to use you to lure Peter into the open.”
“What is it about Peter that’s so threatening to them?” Rainy said.
Mondragón shook his head. “I don’t know. But the fact that they’re still after you is an encouraging sign that he’s alive and probably in hiding. Let’s go, querida.”
“I’m not leaving Cork,” Rainy said.
“Think about it,” Mondragón said. “You stay with him, he continues to be a target. Is that what you want? If you remain missing, along with that pendejo I shot, I think it will take them a while to decide what to do next. So we’ve bought some time.”
“If what everyone says about the Rodriguezes is true, they’ll kill Cork just because he was with me.”
“They may try.” Mondragón gave me and the Winchester at my side a frank look of appraisal. “But I think Cork is a man who can take care of himself.”
“I’m not going,” Rainy said. “Not without Cork.”
I hated the thought of putting her into the keeping of Mondragón, but he was right. It was safest for her. Still, I knew it would be a hard sell.
“I can’t stay with you and help Peter, too,” I argued gently. “If I’m not worried about you, it will be easier for me to do what I have to do.”
“And what exactly is that, Cork?” she said, clearly not convinced.
Mondragón laughed. “Corazón, this man is a detective. He will detect.” His eyes nailed me. “And he will share with us what he discovers in his detection, yes?”
“What seems appropriate,” I agreed. “Rainy, this really is the best way.”
She looked at me, then at Mondragón, who said, “For our son, querida.”
Finally, she gave a grudging nod.
“A suggestion, Cork,” Mondragón said. “Get rid of your cell phone. They may be tracking you, too.”
“I’ll disable the location services. That should do it.”
“I’d prefer to be absolutely certain,” Mondragón said.
“How do you suggest we communicate?”
“An antiquated system. Let’s leave notes.”
“Where?”
“Why not here?”
“The door’s always locked. You don’t have a key.”
He laughed again. “It’s an old lock. It opens with a skeleton key. No problem at all.”
“Where do we leave the notes?”
He got up from the rail and went to the small altar. He lifted the cross, which was heavy and looked gold but was probably just brass.
“How about under here?” he said.
“All right. And how do we know when a note’s been left?”
“The angel statue out front. We’ll tie a little ribbon on her uplifted finger. It will be easy enough to see. We remove the ribbon to signal that we’ve received the message.”
“Might be a little conspicuous, tying that ribbon.”
“It’ll take all of three seconds. And this isn’t exactly a busy neighborhood.”
“All right. For now.”
“We should go, querida.”
I stood and Rainy with me. She stepped into my arms and laid her head against my chest. “You be safe.”
I kissed her hair. “You, too.”
I glanced at Mondragón for assurance. The best he could do was give me a nod.