No Witness But the Moon(86)

“Wait,” said Adele. “So you didn’t actually see Detective Vega shoot Hector Ponce?”

“Adele—I saw them standing very close together and thirty seconds later, I heard gunshots and saw one man down and the other backing away. What does that sound like to you?”

Adele paced the scuffed beige floor. She stared at the colorful posters on the walls showing kids scarfing down fruits and vegetables she had to bribe Sophia to eat.

“I don’t understand,” asked Adele. “Why was there even a floodlight in the woods?”

“The floodlight is ours,” said Margaret. “Last weekend, some professional installers put up Christmas lights on our house and garage. In the process, they knocked a lot of our floodlights out of alignment. One of them accidentally got aimed into the woods.”

“So you looked out. You saw two men standing together. How do you know one of them was Detective Vega?”

“I don’t,” said Margaret. “But there were no other people in the woods. So what I saw corresponds to your detective friend and that Chez Martine dishwasher.”

Adele bristled that Margaret had chosen to refer to Vega and Ponce by their jobs, not their names. They weren’t people to Margaret. They were occupations.

“The dispatcher told you the police had arrived,” Adele noted. “But you didn’t see flashing lights?”

“Not from my vantage point. I suppose they were there,” said Margaret. “They may have been closer to the bottom of the hill. The trees are very thick, even this time of year.”

Margaret stacked the flattened cartons up against the wall. She was finished for the evening. She looked anxious to leave. “Look, Adele, I’d love to tell you something that would make you feel better. But I can’t lie about what I saw.”

“I know that. I’m not asking you to.”

They shut off the lights. Margaret locked the pantry doors. Evening had fallen by the time they returned to the parking lot. Margaret cupped a hand over her eyes.

“Ever since I had the LASIK surgery, everything is so much brighter at night! It’s quite amazing.”

“Mmm.” Adele couldn’t care less about the wonders of LASIK surgery. She was more concerned about the weather. The sky had a thick wash of clouds across it. Snow was in the forecast. She hoped it would just be a few flurries. She didn’t want to have to deal with a winter storm tonight on top of everything else.

Adele walked Margaret over to her Land Rover. A car sat idling in front of her own Prius. Its headlights were on and rap music thumped from inside the closed windows. Teenagers.

“I’m sorry to keep coming back to this,” said Adele.

“But you didn’t actually see Detective Vega shoot Hector Ponce, did you?”

“Look, Adele—even if I were standing right next to them, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t see the bullet.”

“No,” Adele agreed. “But there’s a difference between seeing something and assuming you saw it.”

“If you saw two men standing next to each other and seconds later, one was lying on the ground and the other was backing away, what would you assume?”

“I guess you’re right,” said Adele. Margaret beeped her electronic key and unlocked her door. Adele thanked her for her time and walked back toward her Prius. She knocked on the window of the Hyundai sedan idling right in front of it. A young man powered it down.

“Can you move forward?” asked Adele. “You’re blocking my car.”

“Sorry. No problem.”

Adele straightened and went to back away from the young man’s vehicle. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a set of chest-high headlights barreling toward her. Right toward her.

“Stop!” Adele waved her arms frantically.

The headlights grew larger. A strangled cry squeezed out of her throat. Or was that coming from the teenagers inside the car? She couldn’t tell. Her limbs turned to Jell-O. Her heart stuttered like a windup toy. A cold wave of sweat flooded every pore in her body.

Brakes screeched. Tires squealed. The Land Rover jolted to a stop just inches from Adele’s body, close enough that she could smell the faint burn of rubber and hear loose bags slamming against one another in the trunk of the vehicle. Had the snow already started—had there been even the faintest coating of sleet on the pavement—Adele would no longer be standing.

The door of the Land Rover flung open. Margaret Behring raced over to Adele. Even under the hazy lights of the parking lot, Adele could see that the woman’s face had drained of color. There was a glaze of sweat on her upper lip.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?”

“Mmm.” Adele had forgotten how to speak. She was just relearning how to breathe.

“I’m so sorry!” she kept repeating. Her voice sounded choked, as if she were about to cry. “The lights—they’re so bright. I didn’t see you. I just didn’t see!”

The two women stared at each other, their short panicked breaths clouding the night air. Adele held Margaret’s gaze. When she answered, her voice was calm and steely, and strangely self-assured.

“I know.”





Chapter 33


Vega hustled up the brick steps and through the heavy wooden doors of St. Raymond’s Catholic Church. Incense and lemon oil wafted over him. He hadn’t planned on being back here so soon. But he couldn’t leave the Bronx without trying to make sense of his visit with Martha Torres today.