Skeletons in the Rain

CHAPTER 28 | 11 HOURS AND 20 MINUTES AGO

"Jeremías! Open the fuck up. It's me."

Ismael awoke and sat bolt upright, listening to the banging on the metal door. Although all of him ached, the throbbing that hammered down his right arm had come back with a vengeance. Where am I? By the time he recognized his surroundings, the furious barking of the hellhound chained outside had died in a sharp howl of pain.

"Another peep and the vet will have to pull out your balls with pincers," said the same female voice in a nasty tone. "Stupid dog."

Who was that? Not his goddaughter, that was for sure. They mentioned they were expecting someone else, what was her name again? Luz or something. With his head spinning, Ismael stared at the screen of his cell phone. Even though he didn't remember falling asleep, he could tell the clock was not lying. Dusk was about to deepen into night.

"This can't be," he grumbled, struggling to get the words out of his parched mouth.

The priest cursed under his breath. Neither the firearm, nor Ofelia, nor the video camera were anywhere to be found. What was there, beside him, was Jeremías's body; ashen-faced, with his dead unseeing eyes fixed on the ceiling and a dry layer of vomit over his lips and chest. The nauseating stench of shit that permeated the air turned Ismael's stomach, causing him to spew his insides, too.

"Let me in!" Rather than hitting the dog, Luz must have directed her anger at a beer case outside, as the sound of bottles crashing on the pavement echoed on the other side of the door. "People have complained all day, calling at home and asking me why there's nobody at the store. We have to maintain appearances!"

Forcing his heavy legs to move, Ismael felt something under the palm of his hand when he tried to get up. I cannot believe it. His goddaughter had left him the key to Abraham's office. She kept her word. What is your endgame, Ofelia? Why had she given herself to him? Had the king ordered her to do it? It made no sense. It must be a trap, but— The clang, clang, clang of Luz banging on the door startled him again, interrupting his disordered thoughts.

"Jeremías!" the woman shouted. "Are you going to be late for the Gathering again? I'm doing this for you, and now you're always with that bitch. She's not good for you. Not like me." A pause. "Fine! It's your funeral, then."

Ismael heard her footsteps followed by the rusty squeak of a gate. There was silence for a few seconds, and then the dog barked again.

The priest waited until everything was quiet once more before daring to leave. To his surprise, the mutt outside just grunted at him as he came out of the storage room; all it cared about was licking the beer puddle among the broken bottles.

She was right, he thought. You are stupid.

Whatever happiness had filled Ismael earlier was long gone.

Before turning at the corner, with fingers that refused to obey him, he fastened the buttons of his shirt after a few failed attempts. "Pull yourself together," he said, not caring about the breeze that carried with it the scent of rain or the tedious road ahead of him.

Then it hit him.

Although the phone was still strapped tight around his neck, he was walking freely through the streets of San Isidro. Was the tracker on the smartphone no longer active? If Ismael made a run for it, could he hide on the outskirts of the town for a few hours? Wait things out? Play for a stalemate? Despite being plagued by doubts, the priest's pace didn't waver, and his destination remained unchanged.

Ismael loved puzzles, after all.

"I need to know."

Determined to get answers, the only thing that occupied his mind at this point was to go, unseen, into the room in the Pérezes' patio.

The narrow streets seemed to stretch on forever. The tiredness after the heroin high and the pain caused by his every wound made for an awful combination. None of that, however, was as uncomfortable as the strange sensation of the key in his palm.

When he finally arrived at his destination, the sinking sun had almost disappeared behind thunderous clouds, giving way to the night.

As expected for a Sunday dusk in San Isidro, he saw no one on the streets except for a few decrepit old people on their porches, watching life pass them by from their rocking chairs, lulled by the sorrowful resignation of their fates.

Ismael peered over his shoulder and then fixed his eyes at the Pérezes' garage. He walked to it, still expecting something terrible to happen.

It appears they're not home, he noticed, and yet that door is open.

While the place was humble and there wasn't anything of value in there, the garage door looked secure enough. That Ismael found it unlocked could only mean they were either waiting for him, hidden inside, or Ofelia had dropped by beforehand, making his task easier to speed everything up as she'd promised.

You win. Let's solve your puzzle, kiddo, he told himself, walking in.

His steps seemed loud to him on the patio. The oil stain where his compadre parked the car (near a pair of yellow gas cylinders) had always reminded him of a black skull but never more so than tonight. Above him, the flimsy zinc roof that worked as a carport, which provided shade on hot afternoons and protected the Malibu during the rainy season, rattled in a rising wind.

Slowly, he went across the patio until he reached the room under the hawthorn and turned the key in the lock. The door opened with no problem, but he couldn't bring himself to cross the threshold.

Whatever the Skulls want me to find is here, he thought. What's Abraham hiding? And what does it have to do with me?

"Ismael?" Marta asked from behind him.

The priest squeezed his eyelids shut and clenched his fists. How had he not heard her come in? This was his sole chance to get answers! If his compadre was with Abe, there was not much he could do, but if she was alone...

I'll have to kill her.