Delgado was silent.
“The DVD would have had footage of you entering the lobby with Chinese food,” said Vega. “The police would have been able to put you in my mother’s apartment—”
“And shown me leaving before her murder as well.”
“Well, there was somebody on that DVD who wasn’t innocent. And now we’ll never know who.”
They were both silent for a moment. Vega collapsed against the wall beside Delgado. He felt drained. A train rumbled into the station. There was a push of warm, fetid air, then a strong vibration and then a screech of brakes like two cats in a standoff. It felt like the perfect soundtrack to his derailed life.
“So that’s it?” Vega asked as the train left the station. He pushed himself off the wall and faced the old priest. “This murderer walks because of a DVD Ponce probably destroyed almost two years ago? Because you couldn’t man up about what you’d done? At least I’m facing my mistakes.”
“You’re right, Jimmy.” Delgado patted his shoulder. “I’ve confessed and repented my actions many times. And I’d gladly come forward now. But without this DVD you think existed—I don’t think anyone would be very interested in what I had to say.”
“When did you leave her that night?”
“At around six. I brought the food but she wasn’t hungry then. She said she’d have it later.”
“Was she expecting anyone?”
“No. She had no plans, as I recall.”
“Did she mention that she was going to call Martha Torres?”
“No. But they spoke often. It wasn’t unusual. Especially after Donna died.”
“Did Martha know about you and my mother?”
“Could she have guessed? I’m sure. Would your mother have told? No. She was a very private person. Even I didn’t know everything that was going on in her life.”
Vega stepped back, disgusted with Delgado, disgusted with himself. “Well, you should’ve known, Father. We both should’ve.” He threw up his hands and hustled up the subway stairs. The last pale gasp of daylight had slipped from the horizon. The sky was dark and glazed with thick clouds. It was snowing lightly now. Big fat flakes fell like ash, gray and gritty, melting quickly on the pavements. Night descended early this time of year. The store windows were cataract-clouded with steam or shuttered completely beneath roll-down metal security gates. Vega zipped up his jacket. He felt the cold in his bones. He still had Ricardo Luis’s book underneath his jacket. He felt unclean even carrying it.
He kept his baseball cap on as he trudged back to his truck. The snow made people bundle up and forget about anything but getting home. He wanted to do the same. He wondered if Joy had left the Bronx yet. When he got to his truck, he shrugged out of his jacket, threw Luis’s book on the seat, and dialed her cell. A part of him knew he should stay away from her right now. But another part of him craved the warmth and reassurance of her presence.
“Hey, chispita. I’m in the Bronx. Want a ride home?”
“What are you doing? Tailing me?”
“Nah. Visiting Freddy’s mom at the nursing home. I’m not far from the Bronx Academy. How about I swing by and pick you up?”
“Can you come in like, an hour?”
An hour? He didn’t want to hang around the Bronx for another hour. Then again, he didn’t want his daughter wandering around by herself down here in the dark and snow, either.
“Yeah. Okay. Sure.”
Vega hung up and studied the frosting of white across his windshield. It was too cold to stay in his truck. He could trudge around trying to find a place to get coffee, but the Bronx didn’t have a Starbucks on every corner. He could drive somewhere but he didn’t want to lose his parking spot and have to find another. If he showed up early to Freddy’s school, Joy might accuse him of spying on her. Vega needed someplace near the school that would be open on a late Sunday afternoon. Someplace warm and dry where he could hang out as long as he liked without being hassled.
And then it came to him. The place that had always made him happy as a child. The only thing missing was the two parakeets.
Chapter 35