Beverly Byrne (30 page)

The
barrio
. Ibanez felt in his gut that the answer was there. Why? He didn't
know. Yes, he did! Because of something Maria said. He'd had to give her a
sedative because she was beside herself with guilt and worry, and just before
she went under she'd said, "Her
osito
, Don Rico, they took her
osito
too." He hadn't thought about it much at the time, but it had stayed with
him.

"Because,"
he muttered aloud, "it's so damned Spanish!" Kidnap a child, terrify
her by removing her from her home and her parents, but bring her teddy bear.
And it was cause for hope. Whatever the motive of the crime, they couldn't mean
Kate any harm if they took her toy too.

Ibanaez
pulled on the break handle, and the car came to a screeching squealing halt.
For a few minutes he just sat on the road. Then he began driving again-faster
than before, because he knew where Kate was, or at least who did. Not they,
her.

Taking
Kate was an act of vengeance-Wilkins had been right about that. Only the
sheriff hadn't known all the people who had cause to despise the Westermans.
Rick was able to supply the one name that had been missing from the suspect
list.

Beatriz.

The
shop was closed when he arrived. It was eight in the evening, so that wasn't
surprising, but the fact that the shutters were bolted over the display window
was. Ibanez looked around. A man lounged in a nearby doorway, "Has Dona
Beatriz gone away?" he demanded.

"
No
se
, Don Rico. I know only that the
tienda
has been shut yesterday
and today."

He
remembered that there was a rear entrance and, he started for it, picking his
way through a narrow opening between two buildings. It was littered with
garbage and stank of urine. The passage ended and he was in a tiny yard that
belonged to the Ortegas. In this space of no more than ten square feet, Senora
Ortega had created a garden. It was beautiful even in December. Spikey cacti
contrasted with velvety geraniums whose flowers were insignificant, but whose
leaves exuded spicy scents as he brushed past them. A lemon tree dominated one
corner. Its branches were heavy with pale yellow fruit that shimmered in the
moonlight. Many years had passed since Senora Ortega was well enough to tend
the garden, Beatriz must be keeping it up. Ibanez sighed and crossed to the
kitchen door.

He
raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it and tried the handle.
Locked. No choice now. He pounded on the thick ancient wood with his closed
fist. "Beatriz, it's me, Don Rico. Open up. I know you're in there."
Where could she gave gone with an invalid mother and a baby?

The
door swung open and Beatriz faced him, as neat and self-possessed as usual. He
tried to read her expression, but the light was behind her and it was
impossible. "I did not expect you, Don Rico," she said coolly.
"This is not a good time to visit. My mother is well. Please return in a
few days. If that is convenient," she added hastily, still playing at the
old deference.

"Let
me in, Beatriz. I know." His voice was thick with exhaustion, and he
willed himself to think clearly. She must be close to the edge, perhaps already
over it, or she would not have done this thing. "Let me in," he
repeated when she didn't move or answer. "It's much better if we discuss
it between ourselves, Beatriz," he added gently. She remained where she
was a few seconds longer, then stepped aside.

The
kitchen was spotlessly clean. The pale light of a single gas lamp spilled in a
circle on worn linoleum polished by years of scrubbing. The table was covered
with a starched and embroidered cloth, and there was a potted begonia in its
center. A picture of the crucified Jesus hung by the stone sink, and another of
La
Conquistadora
filled the space over a shelf of china. The
dishes had been arranged to allow room for a candle and a tiny vase of flowers.
It was all so pitifully ordinary. And now she'd torn it apart by doing this
unthinkable thing. "Why, Beatriz?" he asked.

"I
do not know what you mean,"

"Yes,
you do."

And
then, as if on cue, a child's cry filled the silence between them. Beatriz
started, shot him one guilty and terrified glance, then moved jerkily in the
direction of the summons. "I must see that she is all right," she
said simply, as if merely apologizing for the interruption. Rick felt a flood
of relief. Beatriz's instinctive response to the cry told him Kate was safe. He
followed her out of the kitchen and down the hall.

The
little girl sat on Beatriz's bed, surrounded by cushions and quilts and
clutching her teddy bear. She was dressed in a clean linen nightgown that had
belonged to Senora Ortega before it was hastily cut down. A candle burned on
the table, and there was light enough for him to see that Kate was flushed with
recent sleep. She'd wakened and been frightened by her strange surroundings.
That was the only thing wrong with her.

"Hello,
little pet," he said, moving quickly to reach the bed before Beatriz did.
"Have you had a nice visit? I've come to take you home to Mommy and
Daddy."

"Daddy,"
Kate repeated. It was the only word she understood, but she stretched out her
arms to Rick's familiar figure, and he gathered her up with a sense of deliverance
so profound that it made his knees weak.

"Has
she eaten?" he demanded of Beatriz. It was the only thing he could think
of.

"Of
course," she said. "You did not think I would mistreat her?" Beatriz
stretched out her hand and lay one gentle finger on the child's cheek. "We
have had fun together, haven't we,
mi nina
?" Kate buried her face
in Rick's shoulder, but it was playful coyness, not fear.

"What
about your mother?" Rick asked. If the senora suspected anything, she must
be beside herself with worry. Her old heart would withstand little of that.

"She
is well," Beatriz said calmly, "I told her I'd been asked to look
after a friend's child. She enjoyed having a baby in the house again."

Rick
nodded and took a blanket from the bed. "It's a long drive back to the
ranch, I'll need this to keep her warm." He wanted to ask how she'd
arranged the kidnapping, but he could spare no time for questions. The agony at
Santo Domingo was continuing even as he stood here. He started for the door,
but Beatriz stepped into his path. Her mood had changed suddenly, and her face
was contorted by fury and loathing. Rick stepped back, repelled by what he read
in her twisted features.

"Do
you understand why I did it?" she hissed.

He
shook his head. "I could never understand such a thing. Have you any idea
of the grief you've caused? The terror?"

She
stared at him, her eyes black coals in her face. "Do you think there is
anything I do not know of suffering?" she said. Then, when he didn't
answer, "It is right that they should pay! They and all their kind."

Ibanez
could think of nothing to say. Besides, there was no time now for
recriminations or decisions about the future. "I must take her home,"
he said. "I'll come back later. We'll talk then."

She
exhaled softly, and it was as if her anger was dissipated with her breath. Her
muscles relaxed, and the anguished grimace disappeared. "Yes, you'll come
back," she said dully. She turned and led him not to the kitchen, but
through the shop to the front door. She unbolted it with calm and deliberate
movements and held it open. "
Adios, querida
," she whispered.
The endearment was only for the child who slept peacefully in his arms.

 Ibanez
was too dead on his feet to register much of the reunion.  He noted the joy in
Amy's face and the way Kate clung to her father. Then he sagged against the
wall and said, "I've got to go home. Sorry, I just need some sleep."

"You
can't do that drive again," Tommy said over the top of his daughter's
head. "It's past midnight. You'll sleep here."

"Thanks,
but no." It seemed to Rick vital that he get out of this place. Besides,
he'd have to talk to Beatriz and decide what to tell the sheriff. He looked
again at Amy. "Tomorrow's Thursday, isn't it?" He was confused, but
he was pretty sure he was right. "I'll have to see Estella tomorrow. It's
better if I go home now."

"Yes,
tomorrow's Thursday," Amy said. She came to him and put her hand on his
cheek, unaware of her husband and the other men in the room. "I can never
thank you, Rick dearest," she said softly. "I won't even try."

"Just
a minute, folks." Sheriff Wilkins' voice cut through the tangled emotions
eddying in the room. "I've a few questions for the doc. There's been a
crime committed here."

"Not
unless I say so," Tommy said. He handed Kate to Amy and went to where the
lawmen stood apart. "Dr. Ibanez is in no condition to explain anything
just now. And there's no question of a crime unless I press charges. That's
correct, isn't it?"

"Maybe,
but damn it, Mr. Westerman, we've been chasing our tails for three days! Now he
just walks in and produces the baby like a rabbit out of a hat. There's got to
be some questions and some answers."

Tommy
walked slowly to the drinks cupboard, as if considering the sheriff's words. He
poured a brandy for Rick, then a round for the rest of them, "You're a
good man, sheriff," he said quietly. "I've been glad of your
efficiency throughout this nightmare: Now I'm sure you'll show some common
sense as well."

He
didn't actually say that elections were coming up, but the fact was present in
the room like a silent guest. "It's as plain to me as it must be to you
that Dr. Ibanez figured out where to look for Kate. That's why he found her and
we didn't."

Ibanez
felt the tension disappear from the back of his neck. No more questions, thank
God. Suddenly Tommy said, "Maybe you can just put the sheriffs mind at
rest about that, Rick?" Westerman's eyes hurled a challenge. For a moment
the two men stared at each other. Ibanez was the first to look away.

He
sipped his brandy to gain a few seconds of time. Across the top of Kate's head
he saw Amy watching him. Her eyes too Were full of questions. He set his glass
down and spoke very softly, conscious that everyone in the room was hanging on
his words.

"On
the drive back to town I realized that in a crazy way the kidnapping was aimed
at me, an attempt to punish me through my patients and"-with another look
at Amy-"through my friends."

Ibanez
and the Westermans were an isolated triangle of tension in the room, but Wilkins
was the next to speak. "Maybe that's the why of it. It tells us nothing
about who."

Rick
turned and faced him. "I'm not going to answer that, Pete. At least not
until I've had a chance to think. "

"You
could be charged as an accessory, you know," Wilkins said.

Ibantez
shrugged.

Tommy
noted the way the two men glared at each other. It was obvious that Wilkins was
ready to invoke all the ponderous power of the law. The temptation to let
Ibanez hang himself was strong. Just then Kate woke and squirmed in her
mother's arms. "Daddy," she said, holding out her arms toward her
father. The child's movement created a momentary break in the tension.

"I'll
take her," Tommy said.

Amy
relinquished her burden and stood with her arms hanging empty at her sides and
her gaze fixed on Rick. Tommy watched the pair of them, then tightened his grip
on his daughter and spoke. "Let it lie, sheriff. We all know the eminent
doctor didn't snatch Kate." The words came out hard and tight, betraying
what they cost him.

Wilkins
sighed and moved to where his assistants stood waiting. "Ok, for
now," he said. "But we'll have to talk more about it later."

Rick
turned to Tommy, "Thank you," he said quietly.

Westerman
shook his head. "No, don't thank me." His voice was pitched low,
meant only for Ibanez, and perhaps Amy, to hear. "I've got reasons not to
like you much, but at the moment I owe you a big one." He stroked Kate's
silky blond curls while he spoke.