A Silent Death

Chapter Thirty

Cristina hurried across the Plaza del Vino, past the tobacconist and the newsagent, and the little music shop which was just a stone’s throw from the music school on the far side of the plaza. The mini-market would be open till three, and she thought about running in quickly to get some provisions, but there really wasn’t time.

She glanced up at the front window of her apartment. It was Antonio’s day off and he would have returned long ago from taking Lucas to school. She recalled with embarrassment their row in front of Mackenzie the previous evening. Relations between them had been deteriorating in the last few months. Financial pressures, the problems with Lucas and his schoolwork, the demands of her job. And now all this with Cleland. It was something they had to address before it began to get out of hand.

She saw with some dismay that his car was not parked out front. She was returning home for half an hour on the pretext of showering and changing, after spending half the night out on the job. But really, she just wanted the chance to spend a quiet ten minutes with Antonio. To say sorry. And hold him. And tell him they had something special that she didn’t want to lose.

The apartment was empty when she went in. A shambles, as it always was. She simply couldn’t stay on top of her job and keep house at the same time. And Antonio never lifted a finger.

The air seemed heavy still with the bad feelings of the previous evening. Few words had passed between them on her return from the abandoned development on the hill where she and Mackenzie had found the illegal immigrants. And then just a few hours later, as she dragged herself out of bed to take the Jefe’s call, only a handful of terse and bad-tempered exchanges had been required to establish that Antonio would have to take Lucas to school. Something he resented on his day off.

She went into their bedroom to take a freshly laundered uniform from the wardrobe and search for clean underwear in the chest of drawers. In the shower she turned her face up to the stream of hot water and let it cascade over her body, washing away the dust and the tension. Though nothing, she knew, could ever erase the bloody scene in the finca at La Peña. Like Mariana’s recollection of the smirking Roberto Vasquez, it was an image that would stay with her for the rest of her life.

She dried her hair roughly with a towel — no time to blow it dry — and slipped into her clean clothes. It was only as she went through to the living room, pulling her hair back into its habitual ponytail, that she noticed Antonio’s golf clubs missing from the corner of the hall where they usually languished. For all her good intentions to kiss and make up, an involuntary anger surged through her. With everything that was going on between them, and the threat from Cleland to Cristina and everyone in her family, all that Antonio could think of was playing golf. ‘Fuck you, Toni!’ she shouted at the empty apartment. ‘Fuck you!’ And was startled by the sudden ringing of her mobile phone. She unclipped it from the holder on her belt.

‘Officer Sánchez Pradell.’

‘Cristina. It’s Captain Rodríguez from GRECO.’

Cristina was astonished that the head of the Organized Crime Squad in Marbella would even know her Christian name. ‘Yes, Captain.’

‘UDYCO forwarded the information you passed on to them about Roberto Vasquéz. That was good work, officer. There have been developments. I’ve spoken to your Jefe. You and the Englishman need to meet with one of our people...’