"Above The Law" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Tim)

CHAPTER 3

ISODORA HEARD THE CAR. SHE'D OPENED THE WINDOWS after the short storm gave way to glaring sun in hopes of capturing the small breeze. She wondered why Elijandro hadn't returned in the Range Rover. The hands of the clock showed ten before noon and she smacked her dish towel against the metal sink, twisting her frown into a snarl. She hated when he did this, leave her a note that said he'd be back at one time and then arrive four hours later. She took the carton of juice from the refrigerator for the second time and set it down amid the stagnant breakfast things, then went to the door.

Shading her eyes, she studied the car as it materialized from its cloud of dust. When she saw the rack of lights and the police emblem, her stomach turned. Behind her the baby stirred in the crib, giving off a little groan and a small sigh that faded into sleep.

Isodora knew the tall police chief from before the baby was born, when she worked in the big house. Whether it was the ambassador from Brazil or the singer Toby Keith, whenever Elijandro's boss had important guests, Chief Gage would be there with his bolo tie and icy blue eyes, drinking whiskey with just a single cube of ice. Isodora remembered the senator's wife, too, a skinny blonde who laughed like a hyena. The police chief fixed the hat on his head and knit his thick brows so they showed over the rims of his mirrored sunglasses. He scuffed the heels of his cowboy boots in the grit, leaving a small trail that Elijandro would call a man track.

"I got some bad news for you, missy," the police chief said.

Isodora tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shook her head and turned her face as if bracing for a slap.

"There's been an accident," he said. "I'm sorry, but Ellie's dead."

"No," she heard herself say, "I have breakfast for him. I know he's late."

The porch creaked under her feet and somewhere out back a calf bawled for its mother. A hiccup escaped her and she pressed her fingertips to her lips, her face flushing with embarrassment, and still she shook her head.

"I'm sorry," the police chief said.

"I'll put the eggs on," she said, opening the screen door and slipping away from him.

She moved through the tiny space, removing the box of eggs from the fridge and cracking them into the pan and lighting the stove, still hiccupping.

"Missy," the police chief said, his voice following her through the screen door, "I need you to come with me. There's some papers you need to sign."

Isodora kept right on cooking. She ignored the police chief, and after a time she stopped hearing his words over the crackling eggs. She didn't hear him enter, and when he touched her shoulder, she shrieked and cringed.

"You got to at least sign this," he said, looking at his watch. "Sign it, and I'll leave you be for now, but when I come back later, you and the baby will have to come."

She put the spatula in her left hand and signed the paper with her trembling right hand, anything to have him go. He looked at the paper and nodded and she turned back to her work.

When the sound of his car disappeared over the hill, she put out her breakfast the way she knew Elijandro liked it and sat down to wait, staring blankly out the window, hiccupping all the while and listening for the sound of his voice, which she knew she'd hear at any moment.

Isodora had no idea how much time passed before the next knock came at the door. The room had grown hot, not summertime hot, but warm enough for the sweat to bead on her upper lip. The baby had been up crying in her crib, then playing quietly before crying again and falling back to sleep. Isodora knew this because the knock at the door woke up the baby and set her to crying again.

From where she sat at the table, Isodora could see that it wasn't Elijandro and it wasn't Gage, either. The man and woman wearing green jackets in the heat didn't knock twice. They came in, the woman bending over the baby's crib and the man approaching her and talking gently.

Like the boogeyman from an adult fairy tale, he wore a jacket bearing the letters ICE. The Icemen, that's who they were, the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents who came in the middle of the night and stole husbands from their wives, tore babies from the arms of their mothers. A scream bubbled up out of her throat, breaking her trance. She jumped up and pounced at the woman who had her baby. The man grabbed her arms, restraining her and deftly snapping metal cuffs on her wrists.

The woman laid Isodora's baby on the changing table, wincing at the smell as she undid the dirty diaper. The man kept his voice low, but it didn't keep him from escorting her out through the front door against her violent thrashing. The baby's screams pierced even her own and Isodora boiled with rage and indignation, her vision blurred with steamy tears.

A white county van waited outside next to the agents' car. The Range Rover belonging to the senator's wife was there, too, and she got out and approached Isodora.

"It's better this way," the senator's wife said, with a face twisted in pain. "Please, believe me."

Isodora thrashed and struggled and spit at the wife's face.

Through her rage, Isodora was aware that two women with short hair climbed out of the van and spoke to the Iceman about the baby. The two took Paquita from the woman agent and put her into the van, snapping her into a car seat in the back and driving off while Isodora howled from the cage in the back of the ICE agents' car. As the van disappeared over the hilltop, Isodora felt her throat constrict and she choked and gagged and banged her head against the glass until everything went black.