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So he could double-dip. Rage swoops in, and it takes everything I have not to wrap my hands around the old woman’s neck and strangle her.
“Your mother had two babies and she wasn’t so young, anymore,” Afonso’s widow continues, “but she was from an important family, married to an important man. Vincente believed he could get good money for her in a Spanish brothel near the border.”
I white-knuckle the arms of the chair to keep myself seated, because if I murder her now, I’ll never know my mother’s fate.
“He brought her here one afternoon. I saw the brothers carry a cage covered with a green quilt into the old barn. My husband told me that Vincente was selling a calf and he needed to store it here for a few days. The barn was dilapidated. We didn’t use it for animals anymore.”
Not good enough for animals, but good enough for my mother.
I want vengeance. Ache for it.
The worst of the culprits are dead. My father, my uncle, and the Costa brothers—all gone. She’s here. I’ve never taken my knife to a woman—although today might be the day. The craving claws at me until I’m nothing more than a ball of fury waiting to roll right over this bitch.
“I’m just a woman, but I knew that even skittish calves are not transported in cages. When I asked Afonso about it, he brushed me off like I didn’t know anything about cattle. But he was so nervous, he was sweating as he spoke. I didn’t believe him. I knew Vincente was up to something.”
I’m jonesing for her to get to the end, but she needs to tell me the entire story, and I need to hear it.
“After Afonso was asleep, I went to the old barn and lifted the blanket off the cage.” She grips the arm of the chair. “Your mother was chained inside, naked, with her mouth covered in tape. I froze when I saw her. Vincente had dragged my husband into his filth before, but nothing like that.”
I brace my elbows on my thighs and cover my face. This is a fucking nightmare.
“I recognized your mother—at least I thought I did. Such a beautiful, kind woman treated like an animal. As I pulled off the tape from her mouth, I began to cry.”
“But you did nothing to help her,” I spit out. “Just gave her a few tears.”
“We made a plan for the next day,” she replies immediately. “I was to go to the open-air market in the morning. Your Aunt Lydia’s maid, Alma, shopped there a few times a week. I was to find Alma and tell her everything, so that Lydia could help.”
This is on par with Valentina and Lexie concocting a plan to bring down Marco. “Lydia? What could she have possibly done against my father and my uncle?”
“Your mother was sure her sister would know what to do. It’s not like I could go to the police. They wouldn’t have gone against your family. Your mother didn’t want the authorities involved—she was sure we’d all end up dead if we involved them.”
It’s probably true. Not probably—it is true.
“Did Vincente come back before you could tell Alma?” If she had told Alma, my Aunt Lydia would have known, and she didn’t.
She shakes her head. “During the night, a bad storm came through with furious thunderclaps and lightning that lit the sky for miles. It was as though God unleashed his wrath.”
Something I’m seconds from doing.
“Before I left for the market,” she continues, “I snuck into the barn to bring her some breakfast. She didn’t wake up when I pulled off the quilt and called her name.”
I hold my breath, bracing myself for the news that I’ve been dreading since I was eight years old.
“As I looked closer, your mother seemed stiff.” She pauses. “There was no new damage to the structure, but lightning might have struck through an open window, although it was probably a ground current. We’d lost livestock that way.”
Struck by lightning in a barn not fit for animals. I clench my fists, my jaw ticcing wildly.
“I ran to get my husband. Afonso cut the lock on the cage, but your mother was already with God.” She makes the sign of the cross. “May her soul rest in peace.”
With God? Fuck that. What kind of God takes a mother from a child and leaves him with monsters?
An image of my mother pops into my head—the last time I saw her. She’s smiling, her hand on my shoulder as she sets a plate of homemade sausage and eggs in front of me. “Rafael, meu amour, eat everything on your plate so that you can run fast on the soccer field and score lots of goals.”
She was a great mother. A great woman. Selfless. Kind and loving. Nothing Maria Elena Costa told me changes those facts. Nothing.
But there will be no vengeance for me. As much as I’d like to flay someone, alive, it won’t be this woman. I make the decision not for my soul, but to honor my mother, who would want me to spare her. Maria Elena Costa helped in the best way she knew, in the face of powerful men who would have killed her as easily as they would have killed my mother.
“What happened to her body?”
