Dirty Deeds(75)

I woke up to see a brilliant night sky.

But I was afraid.

And that had been a dream.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Derek





Alana’s funeral was held at one p.m. at a cemetery on the outskirts of the Puerto Vallarta. It was dangerous for me to go, stupid even, but I had to. I had to take the risk. I had to see with my own eyes and know for myself what the truth really was, even if it was damaging.

So much damage had already been done.

I pulled my cap down over my eyes and made my way through the overgrown brush on the side of the cemetery. Everything was so well-groomed, so taken care of for the dead but the moment the cemetery lines stopped, nature was waiting. It wanted to take back the land, for roots to grow deep and suck life from bones, to bloom from death. The mess, the wildness, that suited the graves more than mown lawns and wilting flowers.

Bringing my binoculars out from my back pocket, I crouched down and crept, soundless and smooth through the bush, and stopped at the edge. In the distance I could see people gathered for her funeral. There was even more than I had imagined, but Alana had been a popular girl, more so than she once thought. The solid white casket was at the front of the crowd, a priest beside it, reading something out over the grave faces.

Everyone looked destroyed and that in turn destroyed me. It was a good thing that Alana couldn’t see this – it would hurt to know the pain she was inflicting on the people left behind.

Luz and Dominga were sitting near the front on fold-out chairs, tears running down their faces, hanging onto each other while what seemed like their family members tried to console them. There were a lot of people her age, women mostly, whom I assumed were employees of Aeromexico. And in the very back of the chairs, standing to attention, was Javier.

His face barely held any expression but what was there, was nearly heart-breaking. I was surprised. It’s not that I didn’t think he cared about his sister – I knew that he did – but after losing so much of his family already, I didn’t think it was possible for him to be affected anymore. In some ways, I didn’t think he had the capacity to really feel.

But that look on his face … it was the most controlled version of utter devastation that I had ever seen. This was going to ruin him.

That had been the plan, hadn’t it?

Sure enough, coming up behind Javier, was Esteban, as well as Luisa. Like Javier, they were dressed in black, their expressions strained. There was something about them though, the way they were walking together out of Javier’s sight, Esteban’s hand briefly on the small of her back before lifting away, that made me pause. Now that we knew who the villain was, I was starting to see another motive at play. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. Esteban was going to take away everything that mattered Javier, one step at a time.

Alana’s death was the first step. The dominoes would follow.

Luisa was next. But in what context, that I didn’t know.

I eyed the surroundings, wondering if anyone else was going to show up, if anyone was watching – anyone like me. It seemed I was alone. Javier had so much control over the state but sometimes I wondered if he was almost flaunting it. His power was making him lazy and that laziness was going to cost him. The man who wanted him out of the picture, the man who was his biggest threat, was standing right beside him, forced to mourn while making eyes at his wife.

I could see how this was all going to go down. Luckily, I wouldn’t be around to see it. I had plans to get out the country, to get as far away from all of this as possible. If Esteban was going to slowly take down Javier, win people’s trust and take over the cartel, then it was Javier’s fault and no one else’s.

I almost felt sorry for him.

It’s too bad that Alana and I had been brought into it and ripped apart at the seams. Every fucking day I regretted taking that damn phone call from him. But for all the grief and trouble, I know that if I hadn’t, I never would have met her. I never would have been free from my sins and from this life. I never would have found love again, or even happiness. I would have never found my redemption.

Now I was starting over. Alana’s death was bringing me a new beginning. Bringing us a new beginning.

I watched as the priest continued his talk and then people slowly came up to the podium to give their eulogies. I wondered about Alana’s sister, Marguerite, and why she wasn’t there but then realized that Javier would never allow that. For her safety, I was sure that Marguerite would never be allowed to step foot in Mexico ever again. The only Bernal sister left.

Surprisingly, Javier came up to speak. He was the last one. People stared at him in shock, having not noticed him at the back, probably still processing the now wildly-known truth that Alana’s brother was head of one of the nation’s largest drug cartels. It was because of him that she died.