“Gas.”
“What kind of gas?” Judy asked, her mouth going dry.
“Bug killer, and they have a bottle, a soda bottle. They mix bug killer and acid, you know acid?”
“Acid?”
“Yes, acid, they use to clean plumbing and stones. This is the name. I copy from the bottle.” Domingo reached into his other pocket, retrieved a crumpled scrap of white paper, and slipped it to her across the table.
Judy opened it up, her heart pounding. On the sheet of paper at were two penciled words in capitals. BONIDE MURIATIC. “Is this English?”
“Yes, yes.” Domingo reached his hand across the table and pointed a dirty fingernail at BONIDE. “This kill bugs.” Then he moved his finger to MURIATIC. “Mix this, kill people.”
Judy gasped. She couldn’t speak, horrified. She couldn’t bear to imagine the agony of Iris’s murder. She couldn’t conceive of such cruelty. Her mind went into denial. Perhaps Domingo had been wrong. She asked him, “How do you know this?”
“I saw.”
Judy stifled a moan. “What did you see, exactly?”
“At the barracks, I see them, Carlos and Roberto.” Domingo picked up his mug and drained it of coffee.
“Roberto who?”
“Rivera.” Domingo picked up the second doughnut and began to wolf it down.
“How did they do it?”
“They take Iris and put her in the shed.” Domingo finished the doughnut and leaned over the table, his voice urgent. “She scream, ‘no, no.’ They throw bottle in pipe on top. Bottle break in the shed. No more screaming.”
Judy forced herself to understand the scene. “Why weren’t they gassed?”
“They wear—” Domingo raised his hand and covered his face.
“Masks?”
“Yes.” Judy thought it seemed oddly elaborate and she still doubted him. “Why did they kill her that way?”
“No, at home, the cartel, they do it.”
Judy shuddered. “Do Carlos and Roberto sell heroin?”
Domingo hesitated, his tongue licking dry lips. “I don’t know.”
Judy could see he was lying. “They work for some cartel, don’t they?”
“Miss Judy, I don’t know. I don’t want to … say. I tell about Iris, that is all.”
“Could that be why they killed Iris? Was she working with them or did she find out about them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was anyone there, when they killed her?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand, what were you doing there? Did you help them?”
“No.” Domingo recoiled, blinking. “I would never. It’s a sin.”
“Where were you?”
Domingo paused. “Inside.”
“In the barracks?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing there? Did they know you were there?”
“No.” Domingo hesitated. “I was with Pablo. In bed, you understand? Carlos and Roberto, they don’t know.”
Judy got the gist. “So Pablo saw them, too?”
“Pablo is married. Nobody know about him, only me. His wife at home, three children.”
“What’s Pablo’s last name?”
“Diaz.”
“Why did they kill Iris?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sure?” Judy was trying to piece it together. “They didn’t say anything or you didn’t hear them talking?”
“We hear screaming, a woman screaming, then we see.” Domingo shuddered, flattening his lips in disgust. “We want to stop them, but they will kill us, too. They are killer.” Domingo slid a silver flip phone from his pocket and checked the clock. “Miss Judy, I have to go. I miss the bus.”
“Wait. Did they kill Daniella, too?”
“I don’t know.”
“Domingo, we should go to the police. Please. We should tell them.”
“No, I told you. Never.” Domingo’s eyes flared with fear. “They will kill me.”
“The police would never kill you.”
“Carlos and Roberto, they will. The police will send me home, but I will not get there.” Domingo rose. “Good-bye, Miss Judy. The bus is far to walk.”
“Please can we go to the police?’
“No.”
“But it’s the right thing to do.”
“No.”
“The police can protect you.”
“They will not. My mother, my brothers. Carlos will kill my family.” Domingo shook his head. “No, no, no.”
“Okay, all right. I’ll take you to the bus stop or wherever you need to go.” Judy would use the ride to convince him to go to the cops.
“Only to the bus.”
“The bus, got it.”
“No police.”
“No.”
“Okay, thank you. Let’s go now.” Domingo smiled, grateful.
Judy would have to figure another way to convince him. She stood up, got her purse, slid ten dollars from her wallet, and left it on the table, then slipped her phone in her pocket, and followed Domingo outside. They fell into step as they turned toward the parking lot, where Domingo pointed at Judy’s VW with a grin.
“Is your car? Is so cute, like a big tomato!”
“It is, isn’t it?” Judy chirped the door open as they walked towards the car. “It’s because of the color, like tomato soup.”
“Yes, I love it. My mother, she always make it for me. Campbell’s.”
“Mine, too.” Judy opened the car door, climbed into the driver’s seat, and slid the key into the ignition as Domingo went around to the back of the car.
“Miss, wait a minute!” someone called out, as Judy was about to close the car door. She spotted the old man from the sandwich shop, making his way slowly toward her, trying to flag her down. He walked with a limp, so she climbed out of the car and walked toward him, to save him the trouble.
“Yes, what is it, sir?”
“You forgot your change.”
“You can keep it.” Judy met him at the corner of the sandwich shop. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, it’s too much. The tab is only $3.25.” The old man handed her a fistful of dollars and some change, but Judy waved him off.
“Please, keep it.”
“No, take it.” The old man got distracted a moment, looking past Judy and gesturing at the parking lot. “Ha! I think your friend likes the car.”
“What?” Judy turned around to see Domingo sliding into the driver’s seat of her VW, flashing her a big grin. She called to him, “Domingo, you look damn good in there!”
“I know that’s right!” Domingo beeped the horn, turned on the ignition, and burst into laughter.
Suddenly there was an earsplitting boom! The VW exploded into a white-hot fireball. Metal and plastic debris flew into the air. The percussive blast hurled Judy backwards.
And everything went black.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Judy woke up on her back in the parking lot. She felt stunned. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. She couldn’t think. Her head rang. She didn’t know how long she had been lying there. The air reeked of smoke, gasoline, and burning rubber. Chunks of metal, broken glass, and charred debris lay everywhere. She couldn’t hear a thing.
She propped herself up on her arm and saw the old man lying on his side, his face blackened. He was moving and didn’t look injured. Her thoughts cohered in a terrifying moment.
Oh my God.
She looked around her in horror. Bright orange flames engulfed her car, raging through the interior. The conflagration obscured Domingo in the driver’s seat. She scrambled to her feet, reeling.
Oh no no.
“Domingo!” she screamed in anguish. She had to get Domingo out of the car. She staggered to the VW. She didn’t know how long the fire had been burning. Black smoke filled the air, fogging everything. She lunged to the car but raging flames drove her back. She reached into her pocket for her phone, scrolled fra
ntically to the phone function, and pressed 911.
“Please hurry, I have an emergency, an explosion, a car fire!” Judy couldn’t hear the operator or her own voice but kept shouting. “I need an ambulance right away! There’s somebody trapped in the car! We’re at Haltman’s Hoagies in East Grove! Please hurry! I’m hanging up because I can’t hear anyway!”
Judy put her phone away. Her eyes watered. Her throat and nostrils filled with smoke and soot. She gasped for breath. She covered her mouth and tried to get to the car. Flames licked at her, keeping her at bay.
Her cheeks and chest burned. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She coughed and coughed. Heat seared her face. Fiery debris flew like a nightmare blizzard, blocking out the sky.
“Domingo, Domingo!” Judy tried to get to the car one more time. The sleeve of her blazer caught fire. She beat the flames with her hand, smothering them. Agonizing pain exploded in her palm.
She couldn’t let Domingo die. Her thoughts raced ahead. The sandwich shop must have a fire extinguisher. She whirled around and ran back to the shop through the smoke. A yellow Mini Cooper had stopped at the curb. Two young girls jumped out of the front doors, surveying the scene with horror.
“Help the old man!” Judy yelled to them. The young girls yelled back to her, something she couldn’t hear. One young girl raced to the old man, who was struggling to his feet. The other young girl started talking into a cell phone, probably calling 911.
Judy bolted to the sandwich shop, ran inside, and looked wildly around. A small red extinguisher was affixed to the lower wall by the door. She yanked it off and raced outside with it, frantic. She sprinted past the old man and the young girls. Cars were slowing on the street and pulling to the curb to help.
Judy ran to her VW. An inferno razed the interior. Flames raged skyward. Smoke billowed everywhere. The heat beat her backwards. Her eyes burned in the smoke. She couldn’t accept that Domingo was dead. She tucked the fire extinguisher under her arm and pulled out the steel ring on top. Behind her, a trio of Good Samaritans helped the old man to his feet. She recognized one of them, a priest.
“Father Vega?” Judy’s heart leapt with hope. “Thank God! Help!”
“Judy?” Father Vega looked over and ran toward her through the smoke, his black jacket flying open. He reached her, his eyes wide with alarm. “What are you doing here? Is that your car?”
“Yes, my friend’s inside!” Judy tugged the rubber hose on the extinguisher from its holder and aimed the nozzle at the fire.
“Hurry! Squeeze the black handle! Spray the car! Sweep it from side to side!”
“On it!” Judy squeezed the handle and aimed the nozzle. Acrid pale yellow powder sprayed at the huge flames, though it looked futile. She didn’t know what else to do. She glanced at Father Vega and caught him sliding a hunting knife from his jacket pocket, its jagged blade glinting in the sun. The priest was turning toward her, his eyes blazing darkly as he raised the knife in his hand.
“Father Vega?” Judy gasped, thunderstruck. She couldn’t begin to comprehend what she was seeing with her own eyes. A man of God, about to stab her with a lethal knife.
And behind him at the curb, jumping out of a battered white pick-up, were Carlos and another man, presumably Roberto.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Judy couldn’t believe what was happening. She had thought Father Vega was so kind, but she’d been horribly wrong. It shocked her, but it was unfolding before her. The priest must’ve been in cahoots with Carlos and Roberto. Father Vega charged at Judy with the hunting knife.
“No!” Judy aimed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher at him and sprayed his face with powder.
“Ahh!” Father Vega cried in pain. His hands flew to his face. He dropped the knife and staggered backwards.
Judy swung the extinguisher toward his head and slammed it into his temple. The priest fell to the ground, and the old man, girls, and Good Samaritans wheeled around, a confused group. Behind them at the curb, Carlos raised an assault rifle and Roberto a handgun, aimed at Judy and the group. They must’ve followed Domingo to the sandwich shop and planted the bomb on her car. They’d tried to kill her and Domingo. Now they were going to finish the job.
“Watch out, they have guns!” Judy screamed. Roberto fired his weapon. Suddenly red blood spurted from the cheek of one of the girls, who dropped to her knees and fell over.
Pop pop pop! Carlos fired the assault rifle, but Judy was already running for her life. She raced past the burning car and through the parking lot. The smoke and fire screened her from Carlos’s view. There were woods behind the sandwich shop, and she ran into it as fast as she could, struggling not to trip on sticks and underbrush.
Tree trunks and limbs exploded on her right, spraying jagged wood chips where bullets hit. She kept her legs churning, full-tilt. She zigzagged between the trees. Their limbs had grown together everywhere. Vines wound around the branches, blocking her path. She pinwheeled her arms to get through them.
Tree limbs and thorns scratched her face and clothes. She veered around one tree, then the next, not knowing which direction she was heading. Her only thought was to run away. Her chest heaved. Her heart pumped with exertion and terror. She coughed and spit. She caught a flash through the trees of the sloped gray roof of the treatment plant, with steel pipes sticking out of the top.
She crashed through the woods, trying to think. Carlos and Roberto couldn’t drive a truck through here. They had to chase her on foot. She had a head start. She was younger and in better shape. She had a fighting chance if she could make it to the treatment plant. There would be help there. She thought of shouting for help but that would give away her position. Police would arrive soon. She had to stay alive until then.
Hope fueled her. She kept going, the idea of salvation powering her anew. She heard her own ragged breaths. Her hearing was fully back. She heard gunshots behind her and put on the afterburners. A herd of deer sprang from the underbrush away from her, their stiff white tails high. She kept running and whacked aside the vines as she went. She stumbled, tripping on the gnarled root of a tree. She kept her balance and staggered forward.
She veered left and caught another glimpse of the treatment plant. She was getting closer. Birds and turkey vultures circled overhead. Her nostrils were too full of soot to smell anything.
Gunshots popped behind her, a lethal series. It was too close for comfort. She bolted ahead in terror. She kept going, running straight. She didn’t dare look back. Carlos was running after her. Roberto could be with him. It was two against one. They had weapons.
Judy felt rising panic but fought it. She couldn’t give up now. She had to get to the police. She had to put Carlos and Roberto away for Iris and the others. She had to tell the police what Domingo had told her. Then she remembered.
My phone.
Judy had recorded her conversation with Domingo on her phone, unbeknownst to him. She had every word he’d said on tape, in case she couldn’t persuade him to go to the police. She never dreamed that he would be murdered. Domingo would help her bring his own killers to justice, even though he was gone.
Her phone bounced around in her pocket. She raced toward the treatment plant with her precious cargo.
She would get to the police or die trying.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Judy ran closer to the treatment plant, soaring with hope. She was almost there. Her lungs felt like they were about to burst. Her stomach cramped. Her legs burned but she kept them churning. She pumped her arms, ignoring the ache in her shoulders.
She kept going, getting closer, catching a clear view of a commotion at the plant. For such a large operation, there seemed to be only a handful of employees, and they were gathering in a parking lot in front of a boxy building, like an office.
Judy almost cried with happiness. They would help her. She was almost there, only three hundred yards away. She veered toward them, changing course. She didn’t call out because she didn’t want to give away her
position to Carlos and Roberto.
She sprinted closer and saw the plant employees quickly dispersing to trucks and cars, then speeding off down a side road, spraying gravel and dust. She realized that the road led back to the sandwich shop. The employees must’ve seen the car fire or heard the gunshots. They were leaving the treatment plant to go help.
No, no, no!
Judy almost shouted to them, but stopped herself. If she called to them now, she’d draw fire for sure. Carlos had an assault rifle and he would shoot them all. She couldn’t cause any more death. She ran harder than she ever thought possible. Tears of fright sprang to her eyes. There had to be somebody left at the plant, didn’t there? They wouldn’t all leave, would they? Cars and trucks drove off down the road at speed.
She kept a bead on the office. Two cars were left in the lot. There had to be somebody there. Or maybe a weapon. Or maybe she could lock herself in a room until the police arrived.
Judy ran and ran, on her way to the edge of the woods. She could see ahead that the trees ended in a trash area filled with Dumpsters, the parking lot, and the door to the office. She would be exposed as soon as she got out of the woods. Her only hope was that Carlos wasn’t looking to the right. She prayed he was running straight for the treatment plant, the way she had been before she changed course.
Judy burst out of the woods and raced over the blacktop and past the Dumpsters. She flung open the office door and flew inside. She found herself in a bright entrance hall that was quiet and empty. She ran through it to the next door, which led to a short hallway with an office on either side.
“Help me!” she called out, barely able to catch her breath, running past the empty offices, but there was no response. She looked around frantic for a place to hide but didn’t see any. She tested the door to the last office but it didn’t lock. She flew back down the hall into a coffee room with brown cabinets, stopping at a wall phone. She snatched the receiver off the cradle, pressed 911, and couldn’t wait for the call to connect.
“Help, help!” she said, her chest heaving. “I’m at the treatment plant in East Grove! I’m being chased by men with guns. They killed people at the sandwich shop. Please hurry!” She left the receiver hanging and took off running. She heard a noise behind her in the office area. She glanced back reflexively at the sound. Nobody was there, but they must’ve been coming. She almost cried out for help, but she couldn’t be sure if it was an employee or Carlos.