She broke then, tears rolling. Pulling out a tissue, she mopped at her ravaged face. “He told me I didn’t understand, that he did what he had to do, and he was proud. Proud, and now the others, they knew he was a man. Now, he had respect. He was fifteen years old. Fifteen years old when he came home with the kill mark still raw on his arm.”
She stopped, struggled. “I wanted to get him out of the city. If I could get him away from the streets, the gangs. But when I told him what I planned to do, that I was buying two bus tickets to El Paso… My godmother lived there, and said she’d let us come, help me find work.”
“Your godmother?”
“A friend of my mother’s, from their childhood. My mother was dead. My father beat her to death when I was sixteen. I ran away, and he beat her to death. So I married the same kind of man. I know it’s typical, it’s a cycle. It’s a sickness. But my godmother had a house and work, and she said to come. I told Lino, and he refused. I threatened, argued, and he went out, slammed out. He was gone a week.”
She stopped, sipped water.
“Terri, it’s enough.” Tony stroked her arm. “It’s enough now.”
“No, I’ll finish. I’ll finish it. I went to the police, afraid then he was dead. But a boy like Lino, he knew how to hide. He came back when he wanted. And he told me I could go, but he wouldn’t. Go, he said, he didn’t need me. But if I thought I could make him go, he’d just run again. He wouldn’t leave his family. He wouldn’t leave the Soldados. So I stayed. He defeated me. He lived as he chose, and I allowed it.”
Eve let her get it out. “He kept the medal, Mrs. Franco.”
Teresa looked at her, eyes blurry with tears and gratitude.
“Mrs. Franco, you said he’d left before, for days, even a week. But this last time he told you he was leaving-leaving New York, when he’d objected and refused to leave New York before, when you had somewhere to go.”
“Yes, yes, that’s true. I didn’t believe him, even when he packed his things. I didn’t really believe he was leaving, and part of me hoped he was. That’s a terrible thing to feel, but I did. Still, I thought he was just angry, in a mood. I know he’d fought with Joe-Joe Inez-about something, and Lino was so mad at him. I wondered since it was just Lino and the Chávez boy planning to leave, if Lino had fought with Penny.”
“What were they fighting about? Lino and Joe Inez?”
“I don’t know. He never told me his business, the gang business. Lino didn’t talk to me about that kind of thing. But I know they were all mad, all upset about the bombing at the school. The neighborhood was in an uproar. A girl died. A young girl. Other kids had been hurt. Lino had cuts and burns. One of his friends-one of the other Soldados-was very badly hurt, in the hospital. They thought he might die. We held a prayer service at St. Cristóbal’s for him. He got better, but it took a long time. It took months and several operations, I think.”
“There was another explosion, and there were several fatalities, only days later.”
“Yes, it was horrible. They thought it was retaliation-the other gang members said, and people were scared there’d be more violence. The police came to talk to Lino, to question him, but he was gone.”
“He left New York after the second explosion.”
“No, before. Two days before. I remember thanking God he’d gone, that he didn’t have a part in that, in taking those lives.”
“How did he leave New York?”
“By bus. I think. It was all so fast, so quick. I came home and he was packing. He said he’d come back one day, rich, he’d be somebody. He’d be the most important man in El Barrio. More than Mr. Ortiz, Mr. Ortega, others who were rich and had position. Big car, big house. Big dreams.” She closed her eyes. “A couple weeks later, when I went to pay the rent, I found out he’d taken the money out of my account. He’d gotten into my bank account by the computer, he was clever that way. He stole from me before he left, and I had to ask Mr. Ortiz for a loan, an advance to pay the rent. Lino, he’d send money now and then, as if that made it all right that he’d stolen from me so I had to beg for money to pay the rent.
“He was my child,” she finished, “but he was his father’s son.”
“I appreciate all you’ve done, Mrs. Franco, and I’m sorry for all you’ve lost. As soon as I’m able, I’ll notify you so you can make arrangements for your son.”
After she’d led them out, she went to her office. At her desk, she checked access for the case files she wanted, found Whitney had come through.
She got coffee, sat, and as she read made notes of the names of the investigating officers, the witnesses, the victims, the fatalities.
She stopped on Lino’s name, saw the notation that the subject could not be located, and the statement from Teresa about him leaving town two days prior. A statement corroborated by others. Including Penny Soto.
Joe Inez had been questioned and released, alibied up tight. And he, too, had corroborated Teresa’s statement regarding Lino. The investigators had canvassed the neighborhoods, hit all of Lino’s and Chávez’s known haunts, followed up at transpo stations. Lino had gone into the wind-and reading between the lines of the detective’s report, he hadn’t believed Lino had blown prior to the incident.
“Hey, me either,” Eve concurred. She took what she had and headed out to take a swing at Penny.
The lawyer wore a chunk of gold the size of home plate on the middle finger of his right hand, and a suit the color of radioactive limes. There was enough oil in his hair to fry a small army of chickens, and his teeth were a blinding white gleam.
Eve thought: Do you actually want to be a cliché?
He got out of his chair when she entered and rose to his full five feet, five inches. And an inch of that came from the heels of his snake-patterned boots.
“My client’s waited over two hours,” he began, “and nearly all of that without benefit of legal counsel.”
“Uh-huh.” Eve sat down, opened her file. “Your legal counsel, which I assume is this.” Eve glanced up at the lawyer. “Should be aware that two hours is well within the reasonable time frame, and that you haven’t been questioned since you requested counsel. Therefore, he should sit down so we don’t waste any more time. Record on.” She read off the salients, cocked her brow at the lawyer. “Ms. Soto is represented by?”
“Carlos Montoya.”
“Who is present. Mr. Montoya, did you present your identification and license to practice for scan?”
“I did.”
“Good. Ms. Soto, you’ve been read your rights, and have stated you understand them, and your obligations in this matter.”
“It’s all shit.”
“But you understand all the shit?”
Penny shrugged. “I understand fine, just like I understand me and my lawyer are going to sue your ass for false arrest.”
“Won’t that be fun? You’re charged with assaulting an officer, which includes assault with a weapon and resisting arrest.”
“I never touched you.”
“As the touchee, I beg to differ. However, I’d be willing to negotiate those charges if you find yourself now willing and able to answer questions regarding Lino Martinez, and events pertaining to him.”
“I told you already, I haven’t seen Lino since I was fifteen.”
“You lied.”
“My client-”
“Is a liar, but you probably get that a lot. Me, too. The body of Lino Martinez has been officially identified. We are aware he posed as one Father Miguel Flores for a period of more than five years, and frequented the bodega where you work. We are aware of your previous relationship. You want to keep insisting you didn’t know, then we’ll stick with the assault and resisting, and given your record, you’ll be doing a little time in a cage.”