Island of Bones (29 page)

“If we get to the restaurant before my uncles, do we win?”

Louis glanced down at Roberto. “Yes,” he whispered, his eyes scanning the brush as they walked.

The ground was sloping downward. Louis could feel it as they made their way through the brush. And there was a light ahead. But it wasn’t a spot of light like the lanterns. This looked more dispersed, like a floodlight.

Louis slowed. Shit, that’s exactly what it was. He could see the fence about twenty yards ahead now. The restaurant was behind it and someone had turned on a floodlight in the front.

“What the hell is that light?” Landeta whispered behind him.

“Floodlight. We’re at the fence
.” Louis put a hand on Roberto’s shoulder, stopping him. “Roberto, is there a gate?”

“Yes, over there.”

Roberto led them up to the fence. Louis could see the gate now, see that it wasn’t the one he had seen on their last trip to the restaurant. It was an older one and it had no latch, just hinges and a large rusted keyhole. Louis pushed against it, but the gate didn’t give. He looked up at the six-foot fence. No way could he get everyone over it.

“There’s a latch on the other side,” Roberto said. “If you boost me over, I can open it.”

Louis looked down at him. “Make sure you’re quiet,” he said.

He picked him up and gave him a gentle swing. Roberto caught his leg on the top and grabbed on. Louis let
go and Roberto disappeared over the fence. A soft rattle of metal and the gate swung open. Louis sent Landeta through first, closing the gate quietly.

Louis led them up to the back of the restaurant. It was dark
in the back, but Louis could see now that the entire front yard of the restaurant was lit up with floodlights. He could hear a soft rhythmic thumping. It was someone pacing on the porch.

Louis spotted some crab traps stacked at the
corner of the restaurant and he motioned Landeta and Roberto to hide behind them.

“Stay here,” Louis whispered.

He moved around the side of the restaurant, keeping in the bushes, his gun drawn. In the glare of the floodlights, Louis could see that the man on the porch with the rifle was Carlos, the same man who had spoken to him near the restaurant garbage bin just yesterday.

It hit Louis in that instant
-- Carlos was Roberto’s father.

Louis watched him pace. He saw no one else and the inside of the restaurant was dark. Carlos was alone. But there was no way Louis could get the drop on him. Unless he could lure him off the porch somehow.

Louis looked out toward the water. He could see down the slope to the dock. It was only about twenty yards away. The dock stretched far out into the water, and Louis could see the ferry and a second boat, a small skiff with an outboard.

Louis looked back at the porch.

Carlos was gone.

Something hard smashed into the back of his head. His body slammed forward to the ground.

A knee dropped hard into his shoulder blades and he was pinned to the ground, arms out, the Glock still clutched in his hand. He couldn’t get a breath, couldn’t move.

Carlos reached down and wrenched the Glock from his hand.

“Where’s Angel?” Carlos demanded.

Louis didn’t answer. He could feel the hard press of steel on his cheek.

“Where is she?”

The steel jammed into his face. “She’s dead,” Louis said.

Carlos eased the barrel. “The blind man. Where is he?”

Louis was silent.

Carlos swung the rifle, catching Louis’s mouth.

“Answer me! Where is the blind man?”

“Right here,” Landeta said.

Louis felt Carlos freeze. Then he moved off his back. Louis struggled to his knees and spat out blood. He looked up at Landeta.

He was holding Roberto against his waist, his .45 pointed at the boy’s head.

“Drop the rifle,” Landeta said.

Carlos stared at Landeta, his rifle gripped in his hand, Louis’s Glock stuck in his waistband. He took two steps back.

“Drop the fucking rifle
or you’ll see your kid’s brains in the dirt,” Landeta said.

Roberto was shaking. He closed his eyes, but the tears leaked out, streaking his dirty face.

“Papa,” he whimpered.

Oh, God. Ea
sy, Mel...easy.

Carlos’s eyes jumped from Landeta to his son’s face. Then he threw the rifle into the sand. Carlos slowly r
aised his hands. Louis let out a breath and got to his feet. He jerked the Glock from Carlos’s waistband and stepped back, aiming it at him.

“Let him go,” Carlos said.

Landeta waited until Louis had picked up the rifle then gave Roberto a gentle shove. Roberto ran to his father, throwing his arms around his hips.

“Mel, where’s the baby?” Louis asked.

Carlos took a step forward. “Baby?”

Landeta leveled
his gun at Carlos. “Don’t move!”

“Mel, where’s
—- ”

“Back by the traps. Go, I can hold him.”

Louis handed Landeta the rifle and ran back to the traps. He saw the bundle lying on the ground. He slipped his Glock in his waistband, scooped up the baby and went back to the front yard.

Landeta still had his
gun pointed at Carlos, who was clutching Roberto to him. Carlos was watching Louis as he came into the light with the baby.

“You can’t take the baby,” Carlos said.

“Shut up,” Louis said.

Louis looked down at the baby, moving the blanket off its face. In the glare of the floodlights, he could see the baby now, see it clearly for the first time. Dark hair and eyes
like round black watery pools against shell-pink skin. Its tiny pink hands were curled into fists.

“
Give me the baby and you can go,” Carlos said. “I won’t stop you.”

“Louis,” Landeta said
, “give her to him.”

“Her?” Carlos said. “Is it a girl?”

“Louis, give him the damn baby!”

Louis held out the baby. Carlos stepped away from Roberto and gathered the baby into his arms.

“All right, let’s get out of here,” Landeta said.

They started down the slope. Landeta led the way carefully down the dock to the skiff while Louis backed his way down, the Glock trained on Carlos.

But Carlos hadn’t moved. The baby was pressed against his chest, the blanket dangling. The baby began to cry.

Louis heard Landeta getting into the skiff. He could hear the baby, too, its cry carrying out to him, like a small wounded animal.

Small coral grave markers...

“Louis, get in!” Landeta called.

A pregnant woman marched at gunpoint to an isolated cabin. A tiny fresh grave. No children on the island.

Roberto
-- Is that a baby?

Carlos
-- Is it a girl?

The sign in Latin at the graveyard: Agni Dei.

Dei... God? Agni...lambs?

“Louis!” Landeta said. “Get in the boat!”

“Mel,” Louis said, “they’re killing the babies.”

He started back up the dock, his gun drawn.

A gunshot splintered the wood on a piling and Louis dropped to the dock. He looked back at Landeta, who had started to get out of the skiff.

“Mel! Go back! Get down!” he yelled.

Louis scanned the yard, squinting against the glare of the floodlights. He could see Carlos and Roberto standing near the porch. Carlos was still holding the baby and did not have a gun. Then Louis saw another man emerge from the trees holding a rifle.

It was Frank. Frank shot at him?

Another shot zinged through the air. Louis buried his head in his arms.

“Tomas!” Frank called.

Louis looked up. Frank was standing there, but his rifle was aimed into the trees across the yard, not at the dock.

“
Tomas!” Frank called again. “Come out where I can see you.”

Louis saw a figure step out of the brush, across the yard from Frank. He was in the shadows, back
-dropped by the trees. Louis couldn’t see Tomas’s face, but he could see his rifle, still aimed toward the dock. The rifle had a scope, and Louis knew Tomas could see him clearly in the floodlights.

Another figure came out of the trees, carrying his rifle low, stopping by Tomas. Louis couldn’t see who it was.

“Tomas, come into the light,” Frank said.

“And let the bastard on the dock shoot me? I’m not stupid, Francisco!”

Louis was flat on his belly. He slowly slid his Glock forward. Tomas was shadowed and too far away to give Louis a good shot. And the handgun was no match for the scoped rifle. Louis knew if he took a shot and missed, Tomas would kill him instantly. He could have done it in any of the first two shots. Now he was just toying with them.

Louis heard the lever action of the Savage rifle and another of Tomas’s shots popped the water under the dock, making Louis press his face to the d
ock.

“I’m not going to let you kill them, Tomas,” Frank yelled
.

Louis snuck a look. Frank had his rifle aimed at Tomas across the yard. And the second man who had come out with Tomas had moved into the light. It was Rafael, and he was moving slowly toward Carlos and Roberto.

“Get away, old man!” Tomas said.

Louis could hear Tomas feeding more bullets into the rifle.

“I told you this has to stop,” Frank said.

“I’m not going to jail!” Tomas yelled. Another shot splintered the planks near Louis’s head.

Frank took a step toward Tomas. “Tomas! Stop! Now.”

“You gonna shoot me, old man?”

“If I have to.”

Tomas laughed. “You no longer have it in you.”

A small cry drifted from the restaurant. Louis could see Rafael taking the baby from Carlos.

“What is it, Rafael? Is it a son?” Tomas called.

Rafael was staring down into the blanket. “No,” he said. “God, no, it’s a girl. It’s another girl.”

“Then you know what needs to be done,” Tomas said. “Go back to the house. Now!”

Louis watched Rafael. He was shaking his head, clutching the baby to his chest. Louis’s eyes locked on Roberto.

If they were killing the babies, why was the boy still alive?
Then he knew.

Dear God...they only killed the girls. That’s why
Frank had left this island thirty-five years ago. He had left to save his newborn daughter Diane.

He realized everything had gone quiet. Then he
heard someone moving through leaves. He saw Tomas heading toward Rafael. A few more feet and he’d be in the light.

“Carlos, take the baby from Rafael,” Tomas said.

“No!” Rafael shouted, backing up. “We keep this one!”

“Give her back to Carlos or I’ll shoot both of you now!”

Louis rose to his knees, aiming into the darkness toward Tomas’s voice. Rafael and the baby were backed against the porch. Carlos hadn’t moved.

“Carlos! Do what I said!” Tomas yelled.

“No, Tomas,” Carlos said, pulling Roberto closer.

Tomas fired and Carlos reeled backward stumbling into the brush near the porch. Roberto dropped to his knees, covering his head. Rafael spun away, shielding the baby.

Frank fired, his bullet zinging into the brush. Tomas returned fire, his bullet tearing into Frank’s shoulder. Frank crumbled to the dirt.

Louis swept the trees with his gun.

Where was he? Where the hell was Tomas?

Louis heard the baby crying, then saw Rafael turning away from Tomas, shielding the baby. Rafael’s voice, tight and hoarse, sliced through the air.

“Tomas! No! No!”

Jesus...Tomas was going to shoot Rafael and the baby.

Louis aimed blindly toward the darkness. He couldn’t see Tomas. He couldn’t see anything. Then he heard the snap of Tomas’s lever-action Savage.

Louis fired at the sound, pumping bullets into the darkness. Seventeen explosions, burnt air, the jerk of the gun in his hand.

Then silence. The magazine was empty.

It was a few seconds before he could hear, and then his other senses came back. There was no sound or movement from the dark brush.

“Stop! Stop shooting! He’s dead!” Rafael called out. “Tomas is dead!”

Louis could hear crying. The baby’s weak rasp and sobbing that he knew came from Roberto.

“Louis?”

Landeta’s voice behind him, anxious.

“Stay there, Mel. Don’t move!”

Slowly, Louis stood up, pulling a new magazine from his belt and s
lapping it into the Glock. He moved cautiously up the dock, swinging his gun from Frank, to Rafael, then to the darkness where he knew Tomas had stood.

As he moved closer, he could see Rafael clearly, standing over Carlos and Roberto. He had the crying baby cradled against his shoulder.

Louis moved toward the patch of darkness where Tomas had been. He saw him, on his back, in the dirt. Louis knelt to feel for a pulse. Nothing. He scanned Tomas’s body. Then he saw it, one entry wound just below the right ear. Nothing else, not another mark on him.

He heard footsteps behind him and spun.

“Easy,” Landeta said.

Landeta came up to Louis’s side and looked down at Tomas. “Where’d you get him?”

“In the neck, one shot.”

Louis looked around. Frank was across the yard, alive but struggling to sit up. Rafael was still standing by the porch, holding the baby. Roberto was huddled on the ground by his father’s body. Louis could hear him crying.

“Mel, go check on the boy,” Louis said.

Louis went to Frank and knelt beside him. Frank was holding his bleeding shoulder, his dark eyes glistening in the lights.

“Go,” Frank said softly. “And take the baby.”

“I have to bring the police back, Frank.”

“I know that. Just go. Now, before the others come.”

Louis stood up and went over to Rafael, his gun at his side. Rafael took a step back when he saw him coming. Louis stopped in front of him. Rafael was shaking,
his arm wrapped tightly around the baby.

“Where is Angel?” Rafael asked.

“She’s dead,” Louis said. “She was bleeding and she needed help no one here could give her.”

Rafael’s face crumbled. “I knew something was wrong,” he said softly. “She was bleeding so much, but I couldn’t do anything.
Where is she? Where is my wife?”

“On the east side of the island. There’s a cloth tied to a tree near her body.”

Rafael nodded.

Louis held out his arms.

Rafael’s eyes welled. He opened the blanket and looked at the baby, touching a dirty hand to her tiny foot. Then, slowly, he wrapped the blanket back around the baby and held her out to Louis.

Louis gathered the baby into one arm, and turned to Landeta.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.