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For now, to survive, I have to stay in the shadows.
14
Antonio
I stretchout my legs in the corner chair at the only table inside my hotel room. The glow of my laptop and the small bedside lamp are the only light sources. My eyes are heavy, but I’m used to the sleepless nights that have become my norm. I’m in the simple black t-shirt and jeans I found tucked in a compartment in the back of the SUV as I’ve worn my other gear way too much. It’s time to find a laundromat in town. I reach a hand through my mess of hair and run the back of one hand over the shadow of stubble lining my jaw.
I scroll through endless lines of texts from my men on my phone and check out social media sites of events in town on my laptop. None of the updates or reports from my men hold much promise, but we know this business. It’s all about timing. Still, my mind’s a whirlwind of strategies and plans and the occasional doubt about whether I’m way off base here in Taos.
The burden of meeting Boss Romano's high expectations and avoiding Nonna's disapproval weigh heavily on my mind. He's still in hiding, his silence a constant reminder of his absence. Nonna is now safe but has become all business; I'm sure neither of them holds me in high regard after what happened. And even now, I stumble through the unknown with no clear solution in sight. The uncertainty eats away at me and is at the core of this terrible failure. It feels like a never-ending nightmare.
I lean back in my seat, rubbing my face with my hand. The walls of the room seem to be closing in on me, making it feel even smaller than it is. My team is out on the streets, searching every possible lead, but it all seems like a lost cause. The frustration weighs on me, suffocating and leaving me helpless. I scroll through my phone, debating whether or not to call Mr. Romano. But what would I even say? That I couldn't find her? He probably already knows if he has his connections out there, but he hasn't reached out since going into hiding. So should I break the silence with no good news to offer? Tell him that every fucking lead has gone cold and I'm just sitting here in this quiet town, hoping one of my team members will spot her?
No fucking way.
I go back to the home screen of my phone and set it down. Before I reach out for help, I’m going to make sure I know something about what happened to her. My mind wanders to Natalia - her playful grin, her kind nature, and the subtle hold she had over me without even trying. She’s out there somewhere, all alone, possibly traumatized and scared. The thought drives me to the edge of anger.
I refocus my attention on my laptop and continue searching. Shifting my focus to my phone, I send a series of longer messages to instruct my team on how to adjust our search.
“Restart the search, mix up the routine. Check breakfast diners at night, gas stations souvenir shops, abandoned buildings… double back and start spending time in the local spots. Have a meal, buy something. Just look like regular customers. Keep your eyes open for her, and get comfortable around the locals so they open up and share what they might know."
I wait for their acknowledgments, and each reply with a “Will do”, “yes Boss”, “on it” or a thumbs-up emoji to confirm. They're as committed to finding Natalia as I am. And they understand the importance of subtlety in a town like this.
I decide to venture out again myself. Pulling on a worn leather jacket over my black shirt, I glance in the mirror. My reflection shows the fatigue in my eyes, but I push it aside. I don’t care about how my body feels. I’ve never been afraid to work myself to the bone. There’s nothing more important than what we’re working on right now. Stepping out into the evening air, I head towards the center of town.
The distant sounds of outdoor live music are in the air, somewhere in the distance. Other than that, the town is quiet, with a relaxed ambiance that I have to find a way to fit myself into. I am intention in slowing myself down, strolling casually as my gaze sweeps briefly over the faces of passersby, giving them a friendly nod and one-sided smile if they make eye contact.
I walk into a local diner that stays open late and grab a seat near the window. The waitress, a young woman with vibrant red hair tied in a high ponytail, gives me a friendly smile as she hands me a menu.
"Just coffee for now, thanks," I tell her, my eyes still scanning each person seated inside and anyone who walks by outside. The diner's patrons are the usual mix of locals, performers, various artists, and tourists, and of course, no trace of Natalia.
The waitress comes back with a full pot and fills one of the cups on my table. I take a sip, welcoming its bitterness to help me stay sharp. Natalia loves her coffee. At the thought, I remind myself to have the men check any specialty coffee shops. And anywhere that sells waffles. If Natalia had to pick one type of drink and one type of food to eat for the rest of her life, those would be it. The side of my mouth curls up into a short-lived smile at the memory, but my smile is quickly erased by the worry about what she might be eating now. About how she’s adjusting by herself.
After finishing the coffee, I leave a generous tip and move on. Next, I visit a local used bookstore, and take a few minutes to pretend to browse through the titles. The store is cozy, with shelves packed with books and a quiet hush that's comforting in its own way. The clerk, a middle-aged man with glasses perched on the tip of his nose, mentions that they’re closing in fifteen minutes.
“Not a problem, I’m just looking,” I answer back without turning to look his way.
I buy an outdated magazine from the dollar bin to keep up appearances, and continue my walk through the main street in this town, barely registering the beauty of the desert town. It’s a backdrop, nothing more.
I rendezvous with my team later at our agreed upon spot. They report no sightings, no leads. I have half of them call it a night, and instruct the others to check out the places that open later. We need to keep our rotating schedules so that some of us can be fresh to keep up the tedious, repetitive work that this twenty-four seven search requires.
That’s how we’ll find her.
I go back to my SUV and send a text to my team: "Any sightings?" My phone remains silent for a few agonizing moments before the replies start coming in.
"Nothing at the cafe," one of them replies, his message short and to the point.
"Just regulars at the art supply store," Rico replies right after.
I lean back in the seat, rubbing my eyes. We're doing everything we can, turning over every stone, yet she remains elusive. The sense of being so close and yet so far from her is maddening.
I decide to make a move myself. Exiting the SUV, I walk down the streets, my steps measured, my eyes scanning every face. I stop at a bistro and order a coffee. The waitress, a young woman with a bright smile, chats idly as she pours the drink. I respond with half-hearted nods, my attention more on the people around me.
As I sip on the hot liquid, my phone buzzes again. It's a message from one of my men, Raul, who's been keeping an ear to the ground at various local spots.
"Boss, heard a rumor about a new girl at the self-defense class," Rico’s new message reads. "Brunette, keeps to herself. Could be her."
I immediately call him, needing more than just text messages. "What exactly did you hear?" I ask him without formalities.
