Orphans of Paradise Page 5

  She wound through meters and parked cars, avoiding the pool of streetlights. She’d mapped her route around the darkness and there were moments when he almost lost her to it, save for a wisp of hair as she rounded a corner, or the scuff of her shoe along the curb.

  When the stores gave way to apartment buildings and parking garages she quickened her pace as if each dark entryway were a black hole ready to swallow her whole. She glanced over her shoulder at every corner and Jax wondered if she could sense him there, if she was as familiar with the darkness as she seemed. But she never stopped, hiding behind a phone booth while she waited for her pursuer to pass her by, and she never ran, giving in to the panic he was sure was churning inside her.

  When she reached the residential area he hung back, watching as she hesitated beneath street signs and tried to forge a path by the unfamiliar landscaping and dark silhouettes of parked cars. For a second he thought she was lost. But then he saw her grow still, the wind curling into her hair and tearing it away from her face. She yanked on it, twisting it in her fist as she stared at the empty house he’d followed her to the night before. When she didn’t go inside he knew it was empty. And he knew he was the reason why.

  He tried to remember what he’d been thinking—that maybe they’d be asleep, that maybe his mother’s rosary would be easy to find. But the truth was he wasn’t thinking and as he hid there behind a parked car, watching this strange girl who thought she was alone, he wondered if it was becoming a regular thing. He wondered if she still had it, if it was still in her sister’s bag or maybe she had it with her now, there in her coat pocket, her fingers tracing the beads his own had cleaved to since the day his mother left.

  It was the only piece of her she’d left behind, the only piece his mother thought him worthy of keeping. But that wasn’t why he wanted it back. When he was lying beneath that lifeguard stand, the cold steeling him beneath that plastic tarp, he thought about going to find her, to be with her in Texas. He pretended he was still the child she wanted. But if she knew he’d lost the only thing she’d left for him, the only part of her he had left, it would only prove her right—that he was as lost as her rosary, as dark and as empty as Pascual.

  He saw the girl’s silhouette swell beneath a streetlight before she disappeared around the corner. He ran to the end of the street, his steps muted against the damp grass, and followed her past the brick mail boxes and cul-de-sacs until she reached the train tracks, her sights on some pale lines in the distance. She came upon a low structure, the walls warped beneath the night’s fervent grip and Jax watched as a dull glow highlighted her shape as she slipped inside.

  The trailer was a frail, dead thing—the metal splicing at the seams, charred tree limbs and debris slumped onto the bowed metal roof. There was no way they were warm in there. They may as well have been sleeping outside. Jax peered through a cracked window, trying to match the shadows with the faint voices pouring out onto the wind. There was a click and he saw a small flashlight propped between a young boy’s legs. Jax watched the girl, a slip of paper between her fingers.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “You first,” the boy said. “What did he say?”

  “He said he didn’t see her.”

  “What? But he knew who you were.”

  “From her passport picture he found in her bag that she left behind when she ran.”

  “What?”

  “He also said that there’s no way one of them picked her up or drove her back to the airport. He said they never do that.”

  “Then who?”

  “I don’t know,” the girl said. “But what if whoever it was also picked her up after the drop? What if that’s who she’s with right now?”

  “Do you think she’s here?” The boy nodded to the slip of paper. “I found it in the pocket of her jacket.”

  “I don’t know,” the girl said. “Maybe. But we have to go.”

  “We don’t even know where this is,” the boy said.

  “We’ll find a map or something. We can…” She grew quiet. There was a light rustling and another light bloomed in the palm of her hand. “He gave this to me,” she said.

  “What for?”

  “He said he found it in Nadia’s bag.”

  “Why would she have this and not tell us?”

  She held the phone in front of her face, thumb poised over the numbers. There was a faint beep and then the light vanished behind her cheek. Jax watched the light as it carved into the hollows of her face, climbing her skin—dark and raised.

  “What is it?” the boy said.

  “It’s a church. La Puerta.”

  Jax felt his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. La Puerta. That was Medina’s uncle’s church—sort of a halfway house for mules and other illegal immigrants. Medina tracked them down, offering them safety in exchange for any information they had about the cartel, and his uncle helped them get legitimate papers.

  Pascual always wrote it off as some kind of scam and warned his mules about falling for the lure of a new identity and a new life. It doesn’t matter who you are, he would tell them, or where you go. If you run I will find you.

  And it was true. There were always runners. But almost none ever really got away. Except for Nadia, the girl in the passport picture, the girl whose family was sleeping on the floor of a rundown trailer, nothing but her abandoned clothes to keep them warm. Jax stayed there by the window, fingers pressed against the cold glass until they were numb and Nadia’s family was huddled in a mass on the floor trying to sleep.

  He walked back around to the front of the trailer, leaves skittering underfoot, and then the door pushed open. He stumbled, his hand catching the side of the trailer as a lanky boy stepped out. He stood there, staring at Jax, both of them unable to move.

  A pair of crows careened into the night and then Jax was on his back, the boy’s hands reaching for his throat. But there was not an ounce of his sister’s fierceness in those eyes, there was only fear, and Jax rolled them into the grass, his legs gripping the boy tight until he was straddling him. The boy drew in a breath and Jax pressed a finger to his lips.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

  Jax drew up on his knees, letting the boy fill his lungs.

  “What do you want?” he winced.

  Jax searched his face. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit,” the kid spat back. “You keep following us. What do you want?”

  He twisted between Jax’s legs, trying to wriggle free and Jax loosened his grip, slowly getting to his feet. The boy just sat there, his eyes trained on Jax’s face, waiting for an answer.

  And maybe because he didn’t have one or maybe because the silence only reminded him that he did, he finally said, “I can show you how to get to the church.”

  Chapter 8

  Rani

  Rani woke to the soft brush of fingertips. She opened her eyes and saw Breezy stacking a long row of pebbles down her right leg. She watched her sister—brow cinched low, eyes narrowed.

  People always assumed that their quiet shyness was a sign of being well behaved but it wasn’t. Their mother was almost fifty by the time they were born. Too old, the doctor had said. It wasn’t safe for the twins or her. But a devout Catholic, Rani’s mother knew that there was a reason for everything, that they were meant for this world, and to discard of them, to terminate the pregnancy would be a sin.

  But the doctors were right. When Breezy and Enzo were born they were different. Not physically and not in a way that you could sense while watching them walk down the street or clutching their mother’s pant leg in the grocery store. But it was a difference that if you curled up with them at night, their fingers tracing some elaborate scene along your forearm, their eyes pinned to some invisible adversary across the room, you could feel it in your bones.

  “Where’s Max?” Rani asked.

  “He’s outside,” Breezy said, small hand trying to tuck a loose hair behind her ear.

  Max w
as sitting on a broken cinderblock, his back to the trailer when Rani stepped out.

  “You let me sleep,” she said.

  Max stood, startled. “We should hurry,” he said. “It’s almost noon.”

  “What?”

  Max looked down at his wristwatch, finger grazing the plastic face the way their father’s used to. Rani could already hear the low buzz of traffic as they stuffed the twins into their coats, two of Nadia’s t-shirts tucked under their chins like a pair of scarves.

  Rani held tight to the address, comparing it to every building number and street sign, trying to find some kind of rhyme to the naming conventions. She even tried to stop a few people on the street but every conversation devolved to confusing hand gestures and blank stares, the person who’d stopped finally just pointing in the general direction of where they should be heading.

  Max stayed ahead of them most of the way, winding between food stands and bicycle racks and Rani found herself trudging through the city’s landscaping and perching on bus benches just to spot him over the crowd. He reached the edge of the street and she called his name, one hand gripping a tree branch as she hoisted herself onto a metal trashcan. He stopped, looking from her to something down the next block and then he pointed before rounding the corner.

  When they reached Max he was slumped down on the cathedral’s concrete steps, a hand shading his face as he watched Rani and the twins make their way up the street. Above the door were the words La Puerta Abierta Covenant Church hammered out in gold. Max rose to his feet, waving them over, and then Rani saw him, dark hair splayed between his fingers as he gripped his scalp.

  “What are you doing?” Rani said. She felt Breezy bury her face in the small of her back. “Max.”

  “He asked me to help,” the boy cut in.

  “Jax,” Max clarified. “He knew how to get to the church.”

  “How did you find him? Did you sneak out while I was sleeping?”

  “No,” Max started. “He—”

  “Look,” Jax cut him off. “We shouldn’t be standing out here. We need to get inside.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s not safe.”

  Rani grabbed hold of Breezy and Enzo and walked up the steps and through the large wooden doors. The inside of the church was swathed in a deep burgundy glow, tall flames floating along the walls caught in a barrage of stained glass. Their steps fell heavy on the marble floor, the sound ricocheting off the walls before being trapped in the high domed ceiling. The place seemed deserted except for a light tapping at the top of a stairwell and Rani led the way, motioning for Max and the twins to stay on the first floor.

  She felt Jax following behind her.

  “I’ll go alone,” she said.

  Jax nodded as they came to a small office. There was a woman sitting behind a desk, her hair veiled and her hands shuffling across a keyboard. She looked up at them.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  Rani felt the Spanish words perched on the edge of her lips but they weren’t right, not there. She sifted through her memory, through street signs and broken conversations, trying to pluck a word, any word that might actually mean something.

  She drew in a breath and said, “Excuse me.”

  “Yes? Do you need something?” the woman said again.

  Rani felt her pulse quicken.

  “We’re looking for a friend of ours,” Jax said, stepping forward. “A cousin. She may have come by here sometime in the past two weeks.”

  Rani watched the woman’s eyes.

  “Oh dear, people are always coming and going around here. It’s impossible to keep track of all of them. Was she here for private counseling or maybe confession?”

  “She might have come to see someone. Do you keep a record of things like that? Her name was Nadia.”

  At the sound of her sister’s name Rani remembered the passport she had stuffed into her coat pocket. She pulled it out and held it up to the woman.

  “Oh, yes,” the woman breathed. “She was here.”

  Rani stared at Jax, eyes wide.

  “When?” Jax said.

  “I’m not sure. This is your cousin?” she repeated, her voice flat. “Give me just one second.”

  She rose from her chair and disappeared into the next room. She was gone for almost ten minutes and when she finally returned she wasn’t alone. A large man in a loose buttoned up shirt and a thick black mustache came around the desk area and stood over Jax.

  “Leave and don’t come back here,” the man said.

  “What?”

  “You think I don’t know who you are? Now, leave! Get out!”

  Rani took a step toward the man, her hands up, pleading. “Por favor.”

  “Lo siento,” he said. Then he turned to Jax. “I’m calling the police and not the ones who have more respect for drug money than the law.”

  Jax stood there, frozen for a second. “We have to go,” he said to Rani.

  She shook her head, confused. “Why? What is he talking about?”

  He pulled her toward the stairs, his fingers tight around her wrist, but she shrugged him off.

  “Where’s Nadia?” Rani’s voice swirled in the landing.

  “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

  Rani shoved past him, taking the stairs two at a time. Max and the twins were tucked into one of the pews but when Rani saw them she didn’t stop. Instead she pushed through the main doors and down the steps until she was kneeling on the curb, her feet planted in the leaf-filled gutter.

  She felt Jax leaning over her. He knelt down, lips parted to speak, when a silver mustang pulled up in front of the church, the oversized wheels nearly rolling over Rani’s shoes before she wrenched herself out of the way. She rolled onto the sidewalk and the back door flew open.

  “Entre.” Get in.

  Rani saw the gun first. It was poised on her temple and when she heard the click of the hammer being cocked back she could feel the surge in her veins.

  “Jax…” the voice of the driver seemed to coo. “Throw the bitch in the back seat.”

  Jax stood.

  “Hurry the fuck up, Jax.”

  He narrowed his eyes, jaw and fists tight. He reached for Rani and pulled her up by the wrist. She struggled, trying to kick into a run. But then Jax leaned over her, grabbed the collar of her shirt. Then he mouthed the words, “Trust me,” and yanked her up like a dog.

  “She’s not made of fucking glass. Hurry up.”

  He pushed Rani into the backseat and she searched through the tinted windows for Max and Breezy and Enzo.

  “Sit down,” the man next to her said, the blunt end of his gun driving into her forehead.

  She slumped against the seat, jaw clenched as she waited for the ringing to stop. She tried to look at Jax, to make eye contact with him, but he just stared straight ahead, avoiding her eyes.

  “It’s so great to see you Jax. I mean there we were listening in on the police scanner and what do we hear? Franco Medina—”

  “That son of a bitch,” the gunman added.

  “…was requesting dispatchers to La Puerta because it looked like one of us had finally made the mistake Medina’s been waiting for. But no one who still cared about this family would ever be caught dead at Medina’s uncle’s church. So that only left you. And then imagine our surprise when we saw you sitting there with that bitch’s sister. You better fucking explain yourself and quick.”

  “I was about to bring her to you guys. I saw her on the street and followed her inside the church. I told her I knew where she could find her sister and she was—”

  “Is that the truth?”

  A pair of eyes stared at Rani through the rearview mirror. She nodded quickly.

  “Do you—” Rani started.

  But he struck her again, Jax flinching in the corner of her eye. She fell in a clump in her own lap and tried not to cry, tried not to let her body react at all.

  “Shut up you stupid bitch.”<
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  She peered at Jax from between the strands of her hair, his hands gripping his knees, knuckles white. She closed her eyes, hands shaking and when she finally sat up again they were rolling to a stop, the loose gravel knocking against the underside of the car.

  Jax threw the door open and pulled Rani out by her arm. She stumbled against the doorframe, ears throbbing from the sudden motion. The gunman stopped at a handle-less door and rapped against the steel three times. A second later it swung open and they were ushered inside by a man with a long black braid falling down his back. They emerged in a dimly lit room and a voice boomed from one of the far corners.

  “Jax,” the voice said. “I thought you’d be back.”

  “And I brought you a gift.”

  “Let’s see her.” He groaned behind closed lips as Rani stumbled forward. “Fucking looks just like her. Esperanza.” He wrung out the letters, letting them linger on his tongue. “Es su nombre, verdad?”

  Rani said nothing, didn’t even lift her eyes from the floor. But then the man was gripping her chin, wrenching her gaze until she was looking him in the eye.

  “Well?” he said.

  Rani struggled to open her mouth. “Where is she?”

  The man flicked his wrist, releasing her jaw with a pop. She swallowed back a hiss, eyes watering.

  “You’re loyal. Maybe you could teach Jax a thing or two about that.”

  “I’m back, aren’t I?” Jax said.

  “You’re back,” Jax’s brother repeated. “But how far up your ass did Chavo have to stick that gun to get you in the fucking car.”

  “It’s not my fault you panicked. I was bringing you the girl. I had everything under control.”

  “So what is she? Some kind of sacrifice? A goddamn plea bargain?”

  “Maybe,” Jax said.

  “Tired of sleeping on the beach?”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t need me here. Something about your whole operation’s gone flax. That’s why that bitch was able to get away. How many mules have you lost in the past two months?”

  Pascual took one slow, silent step toward his brother, his eyes fierce. “Nobody needs you,” he said. “Now take that bitch upstairs.”