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“Hola?” A high, thin voice answered on the first ring.
“Rosa.”
“Sí. Who is this?” came the hesitant response.
“I—I’m sorry to bother you. Juanita gave me this number and said I could call. My name is Emma.”
“Vanessa?”
Apparently Juanita had confided in her sister, or Rosa wouldn’t have connected her new name to her old one. “Yes.”
The other woman drew a shuddering breath and Emma realized she was sobbing. “She went to bed last night, as usual, but when I called her early this morning, she was gone. She didn’t go to work today. No one can tell me where she is. We’ve called the police, everyone. They say she probably went back to Mexico to visit Nanna. But she wouldn’t go without telling me. I’ve been to her house. She didn’t even pack a bag.”
Chills slipped down Emma’s spine like icy fingers. “Where’s Carlos?”
“Is he the gardener Juanita told me about?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to reach him, either.” Rosa released another tortured sob. “Something terrible has happened. I know it.”
Panic seemed to be crushing Emma’s chest. “Have you heard from Manuel?”
“That loco son of a bitch is the first person I called,” she said vehemently, forgetting her tears in a rush of anger. “He isn’t home. He’s already out looking for you.”
Emma had expected as much. But she hadn’t expected anything to happen to Juanita. Juanita had helped her, and now she was gone? Maybe Carlos, too?
What did it mean? Emma was afraid to even imagine, but she knew deep in her bones that Juanita hadn’t left on her own. Could Manuel really be that obsessed, that dangerous? If so, he was even worse than she’d guessed.
“Have you tried Manuel’s cell phone?”
The quaver in her voice drew Max’s attention. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”
She was too distraught to respond.
“He doesn’t answer,” Rosa said.
“What about the office?”
“One of his brothers, José, was there. He said maybe Carlos was picked up by Border Patrol.”
Emma cringed as she pictured Carlos’s kind eyes and sincere smile. He’d been so proud to be working in America, earning money to send to his family. He’d wanted to save up enough to build a house back in Mexico. And now he’d lost his paycheck.
Loathing nearly dripped from Emma’s pores. “Maybe? If I know Manuel, he called them.”
“José said Juanita was probably picked up, too. But she has her green card. They can’t take her back.”
“What does José have to say about Max and me? Anything?”
“He told me they think you’ve been abducted.”
Of course. Manuel could never admit that she might leave on her own. Saving face, even to his relatives, especially to his relatives, was too important to a man like him.
Emma struggled to combat the rage that left her shaking. “Did José seem nervous, upset?”
“No. He said they’d have you back within a day.”
Another tremor passed through Emma as she tried to keep the phone pressed to her ear. They knew something, knew where she was or where she was going…something.
Suddenly it felt as though he was like a hawk gliding high overhead. Any move she made would bring him swooping down on her.
“I got the impression he’s hired help. A lot of it,” Rosa added, sniffling.
The walls of the tiny motel room seemed to be closing in on Emma. She felt so helpless. She wanted to rush out and start hitchhiking, simply disappear. But from what she could tell, Ely didn’t have many hitchhikers. Standing thumb out at the side of the road would only make her more conspicuous, especially with a child in tow.
“What do you think I should do about Juanita?” Rosa asked.
“Call the police again,” Emma told her. “Right away.”
“What good will that do? They won’t even file a missing person’s report until—”
“Tell them you believe Manuel’s responsible for what happened.”
“Do you think he killed her?” Rosa asked, her voice hoarse with fear.
Emma couldn’t accept the possibility that the man she’d lived with could be capable of something that heinous. She remembered sitting outside on the lawn, talking to him for half the night when they first met. He’d been so charismatic, such a charmer. But he’d changed….
Please, God, protect my sweet friend. Don’t let her be hurt.
“No. No, of course not. I’ll call you in the morning to see if you’ve heard anything,” she said, and hung up.
WHEN PRESTON HEARD Max’s childish voice, he lifted his head from the rim of the Jacuzzi and blinked in surprise. Darkness prevailed in his corner of the pool area, but the floodlight attached to the building confirmed that he wasn’t merely hearing an echo of the two people he couldn’t seem to forget. The boy rushing toward the water was definitely Max, and the slender woman with him, setting two towels on a chaise, was Emma.
“Mom, watch me dive in,” Max hollered. “Watch me, okay? Are you watching?”
“Shh…” she replied. “I’m watching.”
“Here I go.”
She stood at the edge of the pool while he made a big splash, then glanced around as though she feared someone might notice him. Her gaze touched on the people talking just outside the office, the car turning into the driveway, a man carrying something to his car. She even focused briefly on Preston in the Jacuzzi, but he could tell she didn’t recognize him. Two other men relaxed across from him, so he wasn’t alone. And he was sitting so low in the water he knew she’d be lucky to see all of his face, especially amid the steam and the shadows.
“Come on, Mom. Get in,” Max said.
Emma removed the T-shirt she’d worn over her swimming suit and walked to the far end of the pool, where she stood on the steps.
“Aren’t you going to swim with me?”
“Maybe in a minute.”
She didn’t seem nearly as enthusiastic about this outing as he did. She seemed nervous, distracted. Preston wondered if she could be that worked up about the possibility of being caught in the wrong pool, or if the tension she’d felt all day was simply getting to her.
The guilt that had plagued him earlier for dumping her and Max threatened to reassert itself. But the man across from him drew his attention before he could beat himself up too badly.
