Anatomy of Fear

48

I had become a suspect. It seemed inconceivable, but true.

Terri promised she’d help, but didn’t say how. She told me to be patient, but didn’t tell me how to do that either.

I couldn’t sit still. My head was throbbing, muscles in my neck and jaw at a level of tightness I did not think humanly possible. Was I going to have a heart attack? A stroke? It felt like it. I took two aspirin. I chewed my cuticles. I called Julio.

The law offices of Russell, Bradley and Roach looked like the fanciest funeral parlor in the world, everything muted and gray, including Julio’s office. Even Julio was in gray pinstripes.

“Pana, take it easy. No way they think this is you.”

I had told him about Cordero’s murder, my tattoo in the sketch along with the detail that was exactly like one of my drawings, my pencil at the scene; that it was only a matter of time before they connected it all to me.

“Circumstantial,” he said, trying hard not to frown. “All of it.”

I reminded him he was a real estate lawyer, not criminal, and he kidded me and tried to make me laugh but his face betrayed him, the worry impossible to hide.

Then his phone rang. He was late for a meeting. Mi pana a broqui, my bodyguard, had to go. I painted on a smile and told him I’d be fine. He said I should go to his apartment and hang out till he got off work, that he’d think of what to do. But I did not want to be a child who needed babysitting.

I just went home.

I checked the Eleggua. It looked ridiculous, wilted licorice sticks lying over the rocks. I thought about taking the candy out before it attracted roaches, but didn’t, because I was afraid to offend the gods.

I’d never felt like this in my life. But this was like no other time in my life. I tried to think of what I could do, and there was only one thing: I had to finish the sketch.

I went to get my pad and it wasn’t there. I had a moment of panic. Had he been here again?

Then I remembered I’d left it at my grandmother’s.

My abuela was happy to see me, but worried too. I told her I just needed my drawing pad. I could see she wanted to ask me a million questions, but controlled herself, and left me alone. I went into the living room and opened my pad to review the sketches I’d made of the unsub’s face so far.

I sharpened a pencil and waited for inspiration, something to guide me, but nothing happened. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but I couldn’t clear my mind enough to let anything in.

My grandmother came into the room with a beer-an excuse to interrupt me. She saw the look on my face, sat down beside me, and touched my cheek. It was all it took to reduce me to her little nene. I told her what was going on, how I feared I was already a suspect.

“This is loco.” She shook her head and muttered, “Coño carajo,” words I had never heard come out of her mouth.

“This man-este demonio desgraciado-he has put a curse on you.”

“No,” I said, trying hard to look confident for my grandmother. “It’s just a…mistake.”

“No hay errores, chacho. Everything happens for a reason.” She stood up and told me to wait. I could hear her on the phone in the other room. A minute later she was back.

“Entra.”

“Where?”

My grandmother stood over me, all five feet two inches, hands on hips, eyes narrowed. “You are coming with me, chacho, and you will not say no.”

I could see she was serious, but I was no longer feeling like little nene; not quite grown up, but old enough to ask where she was planning to take me.

“To the botánica.”

“What for? A radish root? A frog? This is serious, uela, and you can’t make it go away with herbs and incantations.”

“And you have fixed it? You, who are here now in my house with your pad and pencils and looking like hell?” Her face was screwed up tight. I’d never seen her like this. “I have done what I could, Nato, prayed to Chango, Osain, and Ochosi, but it is not working. I do not know why, but the forces have turned against you. It is time to try something more powerful.”

“More powerful than what?” I asked.

“Than me, or you. Ven.”