Chapter One (Part III)

I shoved the door, my eyes flicking from the unmade bed to the narrow chest of drawers. No one else inside the small room. No closet. No place to hide.

Where is she, Diego? I addressed the back of his lanky frame, his dirty white T-shirt and long dark hair. Diego?

He turned to face me, an eruption of acne on his left cheek, but that wasn't what I noticed first. His nose was pushed to one side of his face and his left eye was puffy and swollen. Dried blood decorated the front of his shirt.

Jesus, Diego, was she with you when it happened? Where is she?

What is this shit?

You were at a party Friday night, with Paolina Fuentes.

Paolina? For a while, yeah. Then she left. He sounded angry and puzzled. The way he stood in the doorway was stiff and unnatural, like he had bruises under his thin T-shirt, maybe broken ribs.

She left alone?

That's what I'm saying.

You two break up?

What if we did?

Did she go with a new guy? Is he the one who hit you?

He shook his head. Maybe it hurt to move his mouth. His lips were swollen.

He fell down the stairs, the man said loudly. That's all.

Josefina Parte made a noise.

Boy's clumsy like an ox, the man said.

I studied Diego's eye. The injury was recent, more recent than Friday night. The man's reluctance to let me near the boy suddenly made sense. My right hand clenched, but I kept my eyes focused on Diego. She say anything about running away?

He shook his head again, more slowly. That's dumb, man, running away.

Was she happy, sad, excited? Different?

Yeah, man, she was different, okay. She was hard, ya know? She was like way into herself, and I don't put up with that kinda shit, ya know? Not from a girl.

That's right. The man's voice again, grating like metal on glass. You don't take no shit from girls. You don't answer no more questions either.

Frustration simmered behind my eyebrows. All the time I'd wasted tracking him, for nothing. All the certainty that Paolina's disappearance was linked to his, unfounded. The boy shifted his weight in an attempt to get more comfortable. I could smell the sweat on his body. I looked at the silent scared woman, the wiry lying man, telltale damage on his knuckles, and anger kindled like a flame.

You want to leave here, Diego? I said softly. You want to see a doctor about that nose?

I could sense the man behind me stiffen, feel the tension rise.

If you want to leave, I'll take you out. I wasn't carrying, but it was no idle boast. I was furious. I wanted to hit somebody, I had the height advantage, and I'd learned to fight dirty at an early age.

I'll stay with my aunt, Diego said.

You get outta here now, bitch. The wiry man's brown eyes had an edge of yellow when he spoke to me. He looked defiant, almost proud of himself for what he'd done to the boy, and I considered a shot to the nose or a punch in the gut.

Please, just go. Josefina stepped between us.

Walk me out, Señora, I said. She must have thought I wanted safe passage past the wiry man, so she did what I asked and accompanied me through the hallway. Behind me, I heard the sharp crack of Diego's swiftly closing door, and I thought, good for you, boy, keep it shut. Josefina opened the apartment door to dismiss me, but I urged her through it, and spoke in a low voice.

What are you going to do? I said.

She looked at me, her frightened eyes so wide that white showed all around the pupils.

Are you married to that man?

Por favor, she said, shaking her head, understand. I love him. I love them both.

Your nephew needs a doctor. Otherwise his nose will stay crooked. They'll need to break it again to reset it.

Please. They'll put him in jail.

Where he belongs, I thought. Diego needs to go to school, I said.

He'll go, he'll go. Tomorrow, next week, soon. You go now.

You make a choice, understand, Señora? You have to make a choice.

What do you mean? I got no choice.

Take your nephew to the hospital. I'll stay until you go. I won't let him hurt you.

I can't.

You can.

I waited for her response in the dingy hallway. The next-door neighbors' alarm clock buzzed, their cat yowled, and Josefina Parte stared at the worn linoleum like she was waiting for the channel to change.

If you choose to do nothing, Señora, I said, that's also a choice.

Leave. Go away. You make only trouble.

The apartment door opened a crack. The wiry man didn't corne outside, but both of us could hear him breathing. He wanted Josefina to know he was listening.

I'll help you, I said.

Just go away.

It's your choice, I said.

She turned and reentered the flat without meeting my eyes.

I waited, but I didn't hear raised voices much less the sound of physical blows. The wiry man didn't venture into the hallway, so I didn't get to hit him. Instead, on the way downstairs, I made the choice for Señora Parte, using my cell to phone the cops. I told them to send a unit to check out a minor in need of protective services. I told them to use extreme caution because the perp was on the premises. Then I jammed my hands back in my pockets and trudged downhill to my car, thinking I'd hit a dead end, another dead end, the last dead end. Thinking that now I didn't know where the hell else to look for Paolina.

I barely felt the cold.