No Witness But the Moon(75)

“Not so much—until the weather got cold.”

Adele knew what the boy was saying: When it was warmer, I sometimes slept outside.

Omar kept his gaze on his work. Adele could only imagine the stress he was under. He had no place to live. He didn’t speak the language. He’d endured a traumatic journey. After so many years apart from his mother, he probably didn’t even really know her anymore. Nor could she take care of him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Adele was asking about Hector, no one except his boss, Jorgé, would even know the teenager’s situation.

The boy must have sensed something in Adele’s gaze because his shoulders straightened. “I’m seventeen. A man. I can take care of myself,” he said. In his world, seventeen was a man. Adele decided to let his problems go at the moment and concentrate on his account.

“So—when you were staying at the restaurant, did you see something?”

He glanced up at her and then quickly looked away.

“Omar, please. If this has something to do with the shooting, I need to know. Hector’s family needs to know.”

“I want to help,” said Omar. “But I have family, too. I need this job. I have loans to repay. If I don’t pay, there is a man in my town back in Guatemala—he will take it out on my older sister!”

“I promise you,” said Adele. “I will not tell anyone where I got the information.” After Vega’s breach of confidence, she would never divulge anything ever again.

Omar took a deep breath. “Hector was one of the last people to leave the restaurant every night. Usually, Jorgé drove him and a bunch of the staff to the train station in Lake Holly. But one time, maybe three weeks ago, Hector told Jorgé he didn’t need a ride. Someone was picking him up. I didn’t want Hector to know I was sleeping here. I didn’t want to get Jorgé in trouble. So I pretended to leave and then came back and let myself in with the key Jorgé gave me.”

“This friend of Hector’s? Was he the one who picked him up?”

“No. His friend came by taxi to the parking lot. I saw them from the office window upstairs. That’s the room I sleep in because it faces the back so nobody can tell when a light is on. His friend didn’t have a warm jacket. Just a sweatshirt. I saw Hector give the man his spare jacket from his locker. Hector seemed concerned about him. Like they were good friends.”

“What did this man look like?”

“I think he might have been Central American, too. He was about the same height and build as Hector. I thought maybe they had some sort of night job together. I just watched because I have nothing to do at night when I stay here. It gets sort of—lonely.”

Adele felt something thud in her heart. She knew half a dozen La Casa volunteers who would gladly take this boy in. She just hadn’t known about his plight. How many other children, she wondered, were wandering around Lake Holly and Wickford and all these other little upscale villages in the same distressed state as Omar? Some, she knew about. The vast majority, she didn’t. Probably because—even if she did—there was little she could do for them. She barely had the funds to provide basic services to adult clients and their American-born offspring. She had nothing left for these lost children who were pouring in.

“So who picked them up? Another taxi?” Adele asked the boy.

“No. After about ten minutes, a black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot. Hector and his friend got in back. The driver powered down his window and threw out a cigarette he was smoking. That’s when I saw him.”

Adele noticed Omar’s voice had turned to barely a whisper. His hands had grown shaky and he was having more trouble peeling the carrots.

“This driver—is he the important person you were talking about?”

Omar nodded. “Hector and his friend were probably hired to help at a party.”

“A party?” Adele frowned. “But this is after Chez Martine closed for the night. You serve until ten P.M. So this had to be after midnight, yes?”

Omar shrugged. “Maybe they stayed at the man’s house and worked the next morning.”

“That’s possible,” Adele agreed. “But why wouldn’t you mention this to the police?”

“Because everyone keeps saying that Hector went to his house to rob him. How can I say that I saw him pick up Hector and his friend in the restaurant parking lot maybe three weeks earlier? Nobody would believe me.”

Adele felt something seize up inside of her. “Omar—are you saying that the driver who picked up Hector and the other man was Ricardo Luis?”

“I must be wrong. If Hector worked for him before, how come nobody has mentioned it?”

Yes. How come?

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” said Adele. She fished a card out of her wallet and handed it to the boy. “This has my cell number on it. You find yourself without a place to stay some night, you call me. There are people at La Casa—board members and others—who will make sure you have a real home to stay in.”

“I’m okay,” he said. “I can take care of myself.”

“Please, Omar. I know you’re strong. But I’m a mother. I don’t want to see you worrying about this in January and February.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He tucked her card in his shirt pocket. “I will think about it.”