LUCIA AND RICHARD WOKE to the timid light of that Tuesday morning still in the warmth of their sleeping bags. They had been buried in them all night long in a tangle of arms and legs, so close there was no telling where one began and the other ended, breathing in unison, perfectly at ease in the love they were just beginning to discover. The convictions and defenses that had sustained them until now collapsed faced with the magic of true intimacy. When they poked their heads out, the freezing cold of the cabin hit them. The heaters had gone out. Richard was the first to pluck up the courage to peel himself away from Lucia’s body and face the day. He checked that Evelyn and the dog were still asleep, and took advantage of those minutes to kiss Lucia, who was purring beside him. Then he got dressed, filled the heaters with fuel, put water on to boil, made tea, and took it to the two women. They drank it semireclining, while he took Marcelo outside for some fresh air. He was whistling as he went.
The day had arrived radiant, with the storm no more than a bad memory. Snow covered the world like meringue, and the icy breeze bore the impossible hint of gardenias. The cloudless sky took on the light blue color of forget-me-nots. “A good day for your funeral, Kathryn,” Richard murmured. He was happy and full of energy, like a puppy. This happiness was so new he had no name for it. He probed the feeling carefully, touching it lightly and then retreating, exploring his heart’s virgin territory. Had he imagined all those midnight secrets? Lucia’s dark eyes so close to his? Perhaps he had invented her body between his hands, their lips joined as one, the joy, passion, and fatigue in the two sleeping bags that made their nuptial bed. He was sure they had been in each other’s arms, because that was the only way he could have caught her slumbering breath, her provocative warmth, the images of her dreams. Again he wondered if this was love; it was so different from the flaming passion he had felt for Anita. This new emotion was like the hot sand on a beach with the sun high in the sky. Could this subtle, unmistakable pleasure be the essence of mature love? There was plenty of time for him to find out. He walked back to the cabin with Marcelo in his arms, still whistling.
All that remained of their provisions were a few miserable leftovers, and so Richard proposed they go to have breakfast in the nearest town, and from there continue on to Rhinebeck. He had completely forgotten about his ulcer. Lucia had explained there were maintenance staff at the Omega Institute during the week, but if they were lucky there would be nobody there now because of the recent storms. The road would be clear and the journey should take them three or four hours; they were in no hurry to arrive. Complaining of the cold, Lucia and Evelyn crawled out of their sleeping bags and assisted Richard in tidying up before leaving the cabin.
Lucia, Richard, Evelyn
Upstate New York
In the unheated Subaru, with two windows cracked open and the three of them bundled up like Arctic explorers, Richard Bowmaster told his companions that a few months earlier he had invited a couple of experts in human trafficking to give a talk at his university. As Evelyn had explained, this was what Frank Leroy and Ivan Danescu were dedicated to. Nothing new in that, said Richard, supply and demand had existed ever since slavery was officially abolished, but the business had never been as profitable as it was now; it was a gold mine matched only by drug and arms dealing. The tougher the laws and the stricter the border controls, the more efficient and ruthless the organization of the business became, and the greater sums earned by the agents, as the traffickers were known. Richard suspected that Frank Leroy connected the criminals with clients in the United States. Men like him did not get their hands dirty; they knew nothing of the faces or lives of the migrants who ended up as slaves in agriculture, manufacturing, industry, or brothels. To him they were mere numbers, an anonymous freight to be transported, worth less than livestock.
Leroy maintained the facade of a respectable businessman, with an office on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan. There he dealt with clients keen to employ slaves, cultivated politicians and compliant authorities, laundered money, and resolved any legal problems. In the same way as he had obtained a Native American’s driver’s license for Evelyn Ortega, he could obtain fake identity papers for the right price, although the victims of human trafficking did not need them: they existed under the radar, invisible, silenced, in the shadows of a lawless world. He was bound to charge a hefty commission, but the people who moved this human cargo on a large scale paid it in order to be safe.
“Do you think Frank Leroy really intends to kill his wife and son, as Cheryl told you? Or were they simply threats?” Richard asked Evelyn.
“The se?ora is scared of him. She thinks he might inject Frankie with an overdose or suffocate him.”
“That man must be a monster if that’s what his wife thinks of him,” Lucia exclaimed.
“She also believes Kathryn was considering helping him.”
“Do you think that’s possible, Evelyn?”
“No.”
“What motive could Frank Leroy have for killing Kathryn?” Richard asked.
“Maybe Kathryn had found out something about him and was blackmailing him,” speculated Lucia.
“She was three months pregnant,” Evelyn said.
“What a shock! Why didn’t you tell us before, Evelyn?”
“I try not to gossip.”
“Was Leroy the father?”
“Yes. Miss Kathryn told me so. Se?ora Leroy doesn’t know.”
“It could be that Frank Leroy killed her because she was putting pressure on him, though that seems a very weak motive. It could have been accidental . . . ,” suggested Lucia.
“It must have been on Thursday night, before he left for Florida,” Richard said. “That means Kathryn died at least four days ago. If it weren’t for the freezing temperatures . . .”
THEY ARRIVED AT THE OMEGA INSTITUTE at around two in the afternoon. Lucia had described a place where nature flourished, with woods dense with bushes and ancient trees, but in the winter many of them had shed their foliage and the park was less secluded than they had hoped. If there were any guards or cleaning personnel they would easily be spotted, but they decided to run the risk.
“This place is enormous. I’m sure we’ll find the ideal site to leave Kathryn,” said Lucia.
“Are there security cameras?” asked Richard.
“No. Why would they want security cameras somewhere like this? There’s nothing here to steal.”
“That’s good. And afterward, what are we going to do with you, Evelyn?” Richard asked in the paternal tone he had come to adopt with her over the past two days. “We have to keep you safe from Leroy and the police.”
“I promised my grandmother that just as I left, so I would return,” she replied.
“But you left to escape the MS-13. How can you go back to Guatemala?” said Lucia.
“That was eight years ago. A promise is a promise.”
“The men who killed your brothers are dead or in prison. Nobody lives for long in that gang, but there’s still a lot of violence in your country, Evelyn. Even if no one remembers the vengeance on your family, a pretty young woman like you will be in a very vulnerable position. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Evelyn is in danger here too,” Richard interjected.
“I don’t think she’ll be arrested for not having documents. There are eleven million immigrants in the same situation,” said Lucia.
“Sooner or later they’re going to find Kathryn’s body and there will be an in-depth investigation into the Leroys. The autopsy will show she was pregnant, and a DNA test could prove the baby was Frank Leroy’s. The disappearance of the Lexus and Evelyn will come out.”