of dog.
Shuddering, she hurried blindly forward, not pausing until Maria was lost in the maze of narrow lanes and twisting streets behind her. Only then did she stop to catch her breath and dare to lift her eyes and carefully examine the people moving around her.
No one looked at her. No one paid her the slightest attention. She had become as invisible as the wind.
A jubilant grin curved her mouth and she swallowed a shout, celebrating her own cleverness. "She will never find me," she said aloud, pleased withherself . The town was too large and teeming with people, there were too many alleys and places to hide. And now, no one would remember her.
She had triumphed over her enemy.
Not ten minutes later a hand landed heavily on her shoulder, and a man bent to examine her face. "Hola, chica," he said in a hoarse voice that made her mouth go dry and her blood turn cold. If snakes could talk, they would sound like this man.
"You and me," he said, flicking his tongue at her, "we are going to be very good friends. Sí."
Possessive fingers tightened painfully on her shoulder.
* * *
Heart pounding, Jenny raced to the end of the block,then halted, spinning around to scowl back at the hotel entrance. Gracielamight have turned left instead of right.
"Goddamn it!" She struck her thigh with her hat, then jammed it on her head and glared up and down the crowded streets.
Not since childhood had she experienced panic this gut deep and overwhelming. Her heart galloped in her chest, she couldn't breathe,her hands trembled as if she had the palsy.
Think, she commanded herself, calm yourself and think.
Graciela couldn't have gotten far. Most importantly, she would be remembered, a kid alone wearing a fancy outfit that screamed wealth and status. That was the place to start; inquire about the outfit. Striding forward, she hurried from one vendor's stall to another until she was satisfied that Graciela had not come this way. Reversing direction, she tried another street and another, her shoulders as tense as rock until she located a mestizo woman selling blankets. The woman remembered Graciela.
From that point, it was as easy as following the beads on a necklace that would circle her right up behind the little snot. When she found Graciela, she would wring the kid's neck. Getting angrier by the minute, Jenny followed the trail until finally she spotted Graciela in the middle of the next block. Breaking into a run, she closed the distance.
And stopped abruptly when she saw the girl was not Graciela. The child wore Graciela's clothing, but she was filthy and she didn't move with Graciela's ladylike prissiness and grace. At once Jenny understood what had happened, damn it to hell.
Removing her hat, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and scanned the traffic moving in the street, the women strolling toward the mercado, baskets slung over their arms. Her gaze swept the street children and the ubiquitous dogs darting through carts and wagons, dodging among the flow of pedestrians.
Grudgingly, she conceded that Graciela was farmore clever than she had believed. And the kid was in far more danger than Jenny could bear to contemplate.
The sweat appearing on her brow had nothing to do with the sun blazing overhead. Her hands started to shake again.
Graciela could step in front of a wagon or a horse and be run down and crippled in the street. She could be dragged into an alley and raped and murdered. She could be abducted and sold to a child brothel; Jenny had heard of such places. A hundred unthinkable horrors could happen to a child alone and lost in a rough mining town of this size.
Trembling with anxiety and frustration, Jenny glared at the dirty little creature wearing Graciela's fine clothing. There was no point questioning her. The chase ended here, and Jenny knew it.
Swearing beneath her breath, she turned into a café and bought a cup of strong Mexican coffee, which she carried back to the street, sipping while she watched the
Shuddering, she hurried blindly forward, not pausing until Maria was lost in the maze of narrow lanes and twisting streets behind her. Only then did she stop to catch her breath and dare to lift her eyes and carefully examine the people moving around her.
No one looked at her. No one paid her the slightest attention. She had become as invisible as the wind.
A jubilant grin curved her mouth and she swallowed a shout, celebrating her own cleverness. "She will never find me," she said aloud, pleased withherself . The town was too large and teeming with people, there were too many alleys and places to hide. And now, no one would remember her.
She had triumphed over her enemy.
Not ten minutes later a hand landed heavily on her shoulder, and a man bent to examine her face. "Hola, chica," he said in a hoarse voice that made her mouth go dry and her blood turn cold. If snakes could talk, they would sound like this man.
"You and me," he said, flicking his tongue at her, "we are going to be very good friends. Sí."
Possessive fingers tightened painfully on her shoulder.
* * *
Heart pounding, Jenny raced to the end of the block,then halted, spinning around to scowl back at the hotel entrance. Gracielamight have turned left instead of right.
"Goddamn it!" She struck her thigh with her hat, then jammed it on her head and glared up and down the crowded streets.
Not since childhood had she experienced panic this gut deep and overwhelming. Her heart galloped in her chest, she couldn't breathe,her hands trembled as if she had the palsy.
Think, she commanded herself, calm yourself and think.
Graciela couldn't have gotten far. Most importantly, she would be remembered, a kid alone wearing a fancy outfit that screamed wealth and status. That was the place to start; inquire about the outfit. Striding forward, she hurried from one vendor's stall to another until she was satisfied that Graciela had not come this way. Reversing direction, she tried another street and another, her shoulders as tense as rock until she located a mestizo woman selling blankets. The woman remembered Graciela.
From that point, it was as easy as following the beads on a necklace that would circle her right up behind the little snot. When she found Graciela, she would wring the kid's neck. Getting angrier by the minute, Jenny followed the trail until finally she spotted Graciela in the middle of the next block. Breaking into a run, she closed the distance.
And stopped abruptly when she saw the girl was not Graciela. The child wore Graciela's clothing, but she was filthy and she didn't move with Graciela's ladylike prissiness and grace. At once Jenny understood what had happened, damn it to hell.
Removing her hat, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and scanned the traffic moving in the street, the women strolling toward the mercado, baskets slung over their arms. Her gaze swept the street children and the ubiquitous dogs darting through carts and wagons, dodging among the flow of pedestrians.
Grudgingly, she conceded that Graciela was farmore clever than she had believed. And the kid was in far more danger than Jenny could bear to contemplate.
The sweat appearing on her brow had nothing to do with the sun blazing overhead. Her hands started to shake again.
Graciela could step in front of a wagon or a horse and be run down and crippled in the street. She could be dragged into an alley and raped and murdered. She could be abducted and sold to a child brothel; Jenny had heard of such places. A hundred unthinkable horrors could happen to a child alone and lost in a rough mining town of this size.
Trembling with anxiety and frustration, Jenny glared at the dirty little creature wearing Graciela's fine clothing. There was no point questioning her. The chase ended here, and Jenny knew it.
Swearing beneath her breath, she turned into a café and bought a cup of strong Mexican coffee, which she carried back to the street, sipping while she watched the
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