Page 58 of In a Far-Off Land
In front of his house was a black car,POLICEemblazoned in white letters on the door. Two uniformed men sat in the auto... and leaning beside it, grinning like a cat who ate the canary, was Officer Adams. Above him, the window where Minerva Sinclaire hid in his own house. Oscar made his feet keep walking until he came to a stop in front of Adams. He took a deep breath. Stay calm. Don’t say anything. Don’t look at the window.
“You know,” Adams drawled, “I figured I’d be seeing you again.”
Oscar’s pulse hammered in his ears, but he kept his face impassive. “What do you want?”
“Just a few more questions. Maybe take a look around.” He shrugged.
Oscar felt panic rising. He tried to keep his voice even. “I told your boss everything I know. Go talk to him.”
“You’re talking to me now.”
“And if I don’t?” He knew his rights. He could get a lawyer. If he could afford one.
“Smart one, eh?” Adams leaned close and poked a finger into Oscar’s chest as he spoke. “Failure. To. Cooperate. Three little words.” His smile was like a snake. The other officers—big men with slick hair and pressed uniforms—stepped out of the auto. They watched Adams like guard dogs waiting for their master’s signal. “Any questions, wetback?”
In an instant, Oscar could see them all sent to Mexico with only what they could carry. But if they found Minerva Sinclaire, it would be worse. Oscar’s legs weakened, but he couldn’t show fear to Adams. He clenched his fists. “Call me a wetback again and I’ll—”
“Hola, officers.” Roman’s voice was friendly as he opened the front door. “Come in and welcome.”
Oscar stared at his brother. Roman had that look Oscar knew,like he had a secret. Usually that look made him angry, but this time he hoped it was more than Roman’s usual swagger. It had better be, because Adams went up the steps and into the house, the other two officers on his heels.
Oscar sweated bullets as he followed the officers through the house and into the kitchen. Adams didn’t beat around the bush. “This girl we’re looking for, Minerva Sinclaire, you know her?”
“No,” he said.
“Mind if we have a look around?” Adams said it like he didn’t care who minded.
Roman jumped in with a wave around the small house.“Mi casa, su casa, amigo.”
Oscar prayed to God Roman knew what he was doing.
Adams sauntered into the hall as his men stood, their arms crossed, watching Oscar and Roman as if they were going to run. Oscar heard the tread on the staircase, a creak as Adams pushed open the bedroom door. He dared a look at Roman. His brother winked at him.
Adams came down the stairs and jerked his head to his heavies. They left without another word. As the car disappeared down the street, Oscar let out a long breath and turned to Roman. “Where is she?”
Roman ambled outside, talking over his shoulder. “I was at thesociedadeswhen I heard them come in, asking where we lived. So I left through the back. Got her out just when they pulled up.”
Oscar clenched his teeth. So Roman was doing God knows what instead of joining them at morning Mass. But when Minerva Sinclaire came stumbling out of her hiding place, her eyes watering, he had to be glad for his brother’s fast thinking. Of course agringowouldn’t think to check the outhouse. She was still gaspingfor breath as he told her to go in the house and stay there or he’d bring her to the police himself.
He sat down on the back stoop and put his head in his hands. What else could go wrong today?
MINA
My stomach felt like it had gone on one of those carnival rides without me.
When Roman had woken me, frantic and breathless, and stuck me in the outhouse—“Quiet,por favor, please, quiet”—my heart had just about pounded out of my chest. He was supposed to be bringing me to Max, wasn’t he? I couldn’t breathe—and not just because of the smell, which was horrid. What was happening? What was wrong? It seemed I was in there for hours before he pulled open the door and let me out and told me the story.
The police. Here. It had been too close.
Now my stomach lurched as Señora slammed a plate of cold flat bread and beans in front of me. I took a couple of bites. Whether it was my rolling insides or the police searching for me—maybe the smell of the outhouse clinging to me—I didn’t know, but I must have turned as green as I felt. Señora glared at me.
“Stay put,” Oscar said as he jammed his hat on his head. “Roman, Angel, let’s go. You’ll be late for work.”
He couldn’t leave me here again. I managed to protest. “But I can’t—”
The door slammed behind him.
Max, where are you? I told myself Max hadn’t deserted me. He just couldn’t face his family after what happened to Maria Carmen. I guess I understood that better than anybody, but still. Please, Max, help me one last time.
