Chapter 43
By the next afternoon, after they’d checked everywhere they could think for André, one of Manny’s customers mentioned that he’d seen a man with a baby down at the river. Manny and Tiago meant to check out the lead by themselves, but Celia insisted on joining them.
She slid along the frozen mud path that led down to the riverbank. She could see why Manny and Tiago hadn’t wanted her to come along. The river wasn’t anything like the one she’d seen in North Carolina that had flowed between green trees and grass. This one exuded a rotting stench, and it looked like someone had dumped the contents of a whole garbage truck right there on its shore. Among the debris, she saw plastic bags and beer bottles, bent pieces of wet cardboard, crushed metal cans, a single shoe missing its laces, and the top of an old cooler. This was no place for a baby. At the same time, though, she hoped to find him here.
It had been around fifteen hours since they’d gotten Flora’s phone call, yet the hours had stretched into what seemed like months. She felt as if she’d spent a century crying, racking her brain, and staring at the phone while she hoped the police would call—or that anyone would call.
Her breasts ached from all the milk Benjamin wasn’t drinking, and though one of the female police officers had loaned her a breast pump, her body would only release a drop at a time to the machine. It was as if every part of her revolted against reality, as if every cell in her body knew this couldn’t be happening. She should be holding Benjamin right now, feeding him and keeping him warm. This was all just some horrible nightmare.
The trees around the river stretched out their jagged limbs, scratching at the side of her arm. Their shadows distorted her view of the woods beyond them. It was hard to believe anyone could live out there, let alone a six-week-old infant.
Ahead of her, Manny and Tiago stepped off the path, pushing their way past trees and bramble bushes. She followed them, climbing over and around tall grasses until she saw a bright patch of blue. As they got closer, moving past a few more trees, she recognized that the blue patch was a tent. Could it have been André’s?
She drew in a breath of cold air and clenched her fists, preparing for a fight. She was going to win this time. There was no other choice. She had to get Benjamin back or die trying.
Tiago called out. “Anyone home? Hello?”
No one answered.
“André,” she yelled, her voice shrill and breaking, “I’ve had enough of this. Come out of there.”
Manny stared down at an overturned grocery cart while Tiago placed his hand over what used to be a fire. “It’s real cold. Probably whoever’s been staying here is gone for now.”
For now. He could be coming back. Hoping it’d be soon, she turned in a circle to see if anyone was behind them. Then she scanned the ground for any sign of Benjamin. She saw a muddy jacket, some plastic water bottles, and empty soup cans, but no diapers or baby bottles. Then she saw cigarette butts, and her heart dropped—André didn’t smoke.
“How do you open this thing?” Manny asked, tugging at the front flap of the tent.
Tiago bent and grabbed a zipper at the bottom. With a zzzt, he opened the door, and both men popped their heads inside. She stood with her feet wide apart, ready to throw a punch or a kick. She could just make out an empty red sleeping bag laying across the middle of the tent. Manny entered and found a pair of jeans beside the sleeping bag. He held them up to her. “Does this look like André’s?” From the squint of his eyes, she could tell he already knew they were too small.
“It looks like a woman is staying here,” Tiago said, pointing out some costume jewelry in the corner. “I don’t see anything for a baby.”
Huffing out her frustration, she kicked at a pile of dried leaves. There could only be so many tents, and if André wasn’t in one of them, they’d have lost an hour down here, which meant they’d added another hour to Benjamin’s suffering. She pictured him screaming with hunger and cold, his skin wrinkled and dry from dehydration.
Manny zipped the tent back up, and they walked on, the smoke of a campfire wafting toward them.
Following the smoke, they came upon another dwelling. This one was larger and constructed from sheet metal and scrap wood. A tarp provided a roof. “Hello?” Tiago called. “Is anyone home?”
A dog barked, and an old man with a gray beard poked his head out from behind a piece of sheet metal. “Good morning,” he called in Creole. “Welcome to my home.” He couldn’t have meant to offend her with the happy, melodic tone of his voice. He didn’t have any idea of her situation. “Have a seat.” He pointed to a fire pit just outside his door that he’d built from large rocks.
Tiago went first, offering his hand to the big, black dog, who wagged its tail. Celia did the same, holding her breath against the smell of mildew that emanated from the man.
She sat down on an overturned bucket, her heart racing at the prospect of asking him questions. He seemed the type to know what was going on around him. He would know if André was camping somewhere around here.
“I’m Rafael,” he said, “from the island of Maio.”
“I’m Celia.” She refused to wait for any other introductions. If he’d seen Benjamin, she needed to know now. “My son’s been kidnapped. We’re looking for him. Have you seen anyone with a baby?”
The old man raised a hand to his chin. “There was a baby last night. The poor child was screaming enough to make a man deaf, so I followed the cries, trying to help. When I found the man who had him, he said he was tending the baby while his girlfriend was at work, and he didn’t want help.”
Celia leaned forward, wishing he would speak faster. It sounded like they could be on the right track. That was the type of lie André would have made up—that he was babysitting for his girlfriend—and it was obviously a lie. Why would anyone bring a baby outside in this cold while he was babysitting? “What did the man look like?”
Rafael stoked the fire. “It was awful dark when I found him, sitting out by the river. He refused to come over by my fire, and he said his girlfriend would be there any minute, so I didn’t stick around too long, but I can tell you he spoke Creole.”
Manny pulled up the picture of André on his phone and held it up for Rafael to see. “Was this him?”
Rafael shrugged. “Could have been. Like I said, it was dark. Sorry I can’t be more help. He must have left soon after that because I didn’t hear any more crying.”
Those last few words—I didn’t hear any more crying—sent a shiver down her back. What did André do to stop Benjamin from crying?
Manny frowned, probably thinking the same thing she was. “Thank you, Rafael,” he said, giving the man a hug. He handed him a flyer with Benjamin and André’s picture on it. “Please call this number if you find out anything else. We really need to get Benjamin back. André’s a violent man.”
They walked away from Rafael’s fire, the weight of silence hanging on them. She folded her arms tight, shuddering. She didn’t want to say what she was thinking, but she knew Manny and Tiago were thinking the same thing—that André could have brought Benjamin down here to drown him in the river. That would have been just like André. He’d always wanted her baby dead. He didn’t want her to be happy. He wanted her punished. And what worse punishment could he inflict than killing her only child?
When they reached the river, Tiago pulled out his phone. “I think we’d better tell the police what we found out,” he said, his voice full of defeat. He dialed the number and began his call while she stared down at the polluted river. What a terrible resting place for her only child.
Benjamin should have been snuggled in her arms right then. The milk that was souring now on her nursing pads should be in his stomach.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she bent down, picked up a rock lying on the ground, and hurled it into a pile of trash on the riverbank.
“Don’t give up hope, Celia,” Manny said, his voice hoarse. “We’re going to find him.”
“Why shouldn’t I give up hope?” she yelled. “Every time something good happens to me, it gets snatched away. First, I lost you because of the volcano. Then I lost my dream for a happy life in America. Now, I’ve lost my only son. I don’t know why I thought Benjamin would be safe. No one around me is ever safe.” Happiness slipped through her hands like water through a sieve. She could never hold onto it. Why would she think it would be any different for Benjamin?