Silence in the Dark (4 page)

Maria nodded slowly.

“Are you just a tiny bit afraid?”

Again the nod.

“Well, it’s very safe and feels like riding in a big car.” Not at all like Danny’s single prop plane.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ve flown bunches, and it’s really cool, looking out the window at the clouds. They almost look like cotton candy.” She tried to make the trip sound exciting.

“Really?” Maria smoothed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

“Really. Would you like for me to put your hair up in a ponytail?”

“Yes, I would appreciate that.”

Maria’s vocabulary was far advanced for a four-year-old, and sometimes talking to her was like conversing with a tiny adult. More than anything, Bailey wanted to put a little fun in the child’s life.

Yes. This trip was going to be a good thing for Maria. And it would put her far away from Father Horatio.

3

D
anny had long finished eating but couldn’t make himself leave or take his attention off Bailey. If ever there was an exercise in futility . . . With a sigh, he placed his napkin on the plate.

They were perfect for each other in so many ways. Bailey had a way of making him feel as though he could do anything.

“Maxwell Industries is your dad’s passion, and Ian’s,” she’d told him once, “but not yours. Think about it—you’re the last to arrive and the first to leave. So what’s your passion, Danny Maxwell?”

“You,” he’d said.

She’d laughed at him and told him he couldn’t make a career out of being passionate about her. But she never stopped believing that he was capable of great things.

Sometimes he wondered if his lack of focus was as big an obstacle to their relationship as . . . what
?
One night she accepted his ring, and a day later she gave it back with a rambling explanation about how she just couldn’t do it and had to answer her “calling.” The next thing he knew, she was in Mexico.

He didn’t understand why he continued to sit here, watching Bailey make eyes at Joel. When she accepted a small box from him, Danny’d had enough—time to leave. He asked for his check and once again noticed that the man who had been watching Bailey earlier continued to observe her.

However, when Bailey and Maria left the table, the man’s gaze didn’t follow them. It stayed at the table, on Joel. Something about the man seemed familiar. Abruptly the man stood and threw a handful of bills on the table.

Danny hesitated, torn between wanting to follow the stranger and staying where he could watch Bailey. For what, torture? His gut said to go after the man, and he usually followed his hunches. Placing enough money on the table to cover his bill and a generous tip, he stood and hurried to the street in time to see the man look away as a stocky Mexican climbed out of a car and stared at him. Danny followed as he strode purposefully toward a blue Jeep Cherokee parked half a block away.

“Hey, wait up,” he called in Spanish, but the man kept walking, and Danny jogged after him. “Can I—”

Gunshots rang out behind him.

Danny whirled in tandem with the stranger. Three men carried a slumped Joel from the restaurant while two more stood guard.

Bailey!

He sprinted toward them as Joel was thrown in the backseat of a waiting car, and two of the men hopped into the front seat. Tires squealed, and the car shot down the street. The other men dashed toward the restaurant, and Danny changed direction, going after them.

One of the men shouted a command: “Find the girl!”

They want Maria.
Bailey wouldn’t let her go without a fight. To the death.

“Out of my way!”

He had forgotten the stranger who now shoved past him into the restaurant. Danny followed on his heels.

The room was empty. No waitress. No men. No Maria.

No Bailey.

Gunfire froze Bailey as she and Maria left the restroom. The shots were close. Too close.

“Miss Bailey, I’m scared.”

“We’ll be all right.” She tried to sound strong, but her feet refused to move. What if it was Father Horatio? And he was looking for her?

Men shouting. “Find the señorita!”

If they were after her, then it was Father Horatio.
But why?

The waitress materialized in the hallway. “Follow me.”

With her heart jackhammering in her ears, Bailey almost missed the whispered words. The waitress motioned toward another hallway, and Bailey scooped the wide-eyed child up in her arms. “Shh, it’s going to be all right.” But was it? The back door was straight ahead, not the way the waitress led them.

What if she was leading them to the men? No. The waitress had been too kind.

Maria whimpered against her shoulder. Bailey hesitated, and the waitress motioned again. Something crashed to the floor in the dining room, spurring her forward into another hallway, then through a doorway.

They entered the kitchen, and the waitress whispered something to the cook. He jerked up a woven rug, revealing a trapdoor. While he lifted the door, she motioned them into the cellar. “Hurry!”

Bailey winced as Maria’s fingers dug into her shoulder.

“Now! Hurry!” The Spanish words were more urgent.

She handed Maria to the waitress and scrambled down the steps. “What happened to my friend?” she asked, lifting her arms for the child. The pity in the woman’s eyes told her all she needed to know.

“They took him. Kidnapping, I think. Or they would have shot him dead on the spot. And now they’re searching for you two.”

Bailey’s throat tightened as she pulled Maria close.

The waitress put her finger to her lips before the cook closed the trapdoor over their heads, sealing them in the cool room. A
cellar where they kept root vegetables from the smell of onions and garlic that permeated the air.

With her chest heaving in the pitch dark, Bailey felt for the wall beside the steps. They needed to get deeper into the room. Not for the first time, she wished she had her gun. But she’d left it in her apartment. She held Maria tight against her and used the wall to guide her farther away from the steps.

If the waitress was right, the men were after Maria for money
.
Kidnapping was so common in Mexico that wealthy people took out insurance in case they had to pay a ransom, but she never thought it would happen to one of her students . . . or her, especially since she had neither insurance nor money.

“Shh,” Bailey crooned as Maria whimpered, then pressed her lips against the girl’s ear and whispered, “Remember the school lesson last week? How Daniel survived the lions’ den?” In the darkness, she felt Maria nod. “God will take care of us, but we must be quiet.”

Why couldn’t she hold on to that truth? Why had her gun, and not God, been her first thought? She tried to focus on her breathing and slow her heart rate down, but waiting in the dark to be discovered made that impossible.

She held Maria tighter and struggled to release the tension that constricted every breath. Footsteps shook the boards overhead.
Please let her stay quiet.
A small cry escaped Maria’s lips. Adrenaline
shot through Bailey. The door was thick. Maybe they wouldn’t hear her. She stroked the child’s arms, straining to hear the muffled words spoken, automatically translating them into English.

“Where are the woman and girl?” They wanted her and Maria.

She tightened her hold on the child. They would get Maria over her dead body.

Somehow she doubted that would be a problem for the men.

Danny pushed open the door to the kitchen. The waitress who had brought his food earlier stared at him with huge brown eyes. “The woman and girl, where are they?”

She stared blankly at him. The stranger who had followed him repeated the question in Spanish and received a torrent of words too fast for Danny to understand as she pointed toward the back door. The man jerked open the door.

“Hey, wait.” Danny followed close on his heels, almost bowling the guy over when he halted in the alley.

The narrow street was filled with delivery trucks backed up to doorways and people milling about. Danny caught a glimpse of one of the men he had chased into the restaurant a couple of blocks away, and he started after him.

“No. You do not wish to follow.” The stranger spoke in English.

Danny whirled around. “Who are you? And why not?”

“Angel Guerrera. And you do not wish to follow these men, Danny Maxwell, because they belong to one of our drug cartels.”

“How do you know?”

“They are the only ones who kidnap people.”

Danny eyed the lean Hispanic who stood shoulder to shoulder with him. While Danny might outweigh him, he would not want to tangle with the rock-solid Angel Guerrera. Something about him rang a bell. “I remember the name Angel from when I was a kid. Do I know you?”

“There are many named Angel in Mexico, but we met once, years ago when my father still lived. I recognized you—you look like
your
father the last time I saw him.” Angel’s mouth quirked. “And your Spanish still has a Mississippi accent.”

Fragments of memories came together. A trip to Mexico with his dad when he was twelve or thirteen. His dad to talk business with the owner of a ceramics factory, Danny to experience the country and speak the language his father had made him learn. A boy his own age named Angel—the son of one of the employees,
he thought. But he couldn’t come up with anything else. “You have a good memory.”

“It was not often back then that I met an American my age.”

“You speak excellent English.” Like someone who grew up in the States but more formal.

“I spent some time in a Texas hospital not long ago, so I’ve had practice, thanks to the Calatrava.”

“So getting even with the Calatrava is your stake in this?”

“Sí.”

A weight lodged in the pit of Danny’s stomach. And now they wanted Bailey and the child in her care. Headstrong and stubborn described the woman he’d once thought he would marry, but this? What had she gotten herself into?

“Bailey and Maria could have ducked into one of the stores along the street. They could be anywhere,” Angel said. “Let’s go talk to the waitress.”

“How do you know them?”

Without answering, Angel turned and walked back into the restaurant. With one last glance down the street, Danny turned and followed him. “How will we find Bailey?”

“I saw you put something in her phone—your number, I assume. Once her head clears, she will call you.”

Wait, Danny had Bailey’s number. He jerked his phone out and scrolled to her name.

Angel grabbed his hand. “What if she’s hiding and her phone rings?”

Slowly Danny moved his finger away from the number. “How did you know I put my number in Bailey’s phone? Why were you watching us?”

A shrug was the only answer he received as Angel turned and called to the waitress they’d questioned minutes ago. She appeared almost instantly, and when Angel peppered her with questions, she shook her head. He spoke so quickly, Danny had
trouble following his words. He didn’t have any trouble seeing that the waitress didn’t intend to tell them anything. “Did you call the police?”

“No. It would do no good. The men will not be arrested. Your friend is probably no longer alive.”

The finality of her words expressed a futility he knew nothing about. He glanced at Angel. “But we should.”

Angel shook his head. “You do not want to involve the police. It is possible they are on the payroll of the Calatrava. Instead, let’s go to your hotel and wait for her to call you.”

Waiting was the last thing he wanted to do. But Angel had already turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Danny turned back to the waitress. She knew more than she was telling. He just didn’t know how to get it out of her. “She was my fiancée,” he blurted.

For a second, hesitation wavered in her eyes, then the waitress shook her head.
“Lo siento.”

He was sorry too.
Danny took a card from his billfold. “What’s your name?” he asked in Spanish.

She hesitated, then pointed to the name on her shirt. “Solana.”