Byrth shook his head. “Oh, hell no. Wait till you hear the good stuff. Starting with the sexual assault bordering on torture.”

VII

[ONE] 826 Sears Street, Philadelphia Wednesday, September 9, 3:51 P.M.

Paco Esteban could hear the sounds of the crowd even before he unlocked and opened the front door of his home.

Inside, he was not surprised to find that the voices belonged to eight members of his extended family, all women and all of whom had been in the laundromat that morning. Most filled the parlor in the back, sitting on the couch and in the stackable plastic chairs. Almost all were fingering a rosary. There was a Bible in one’s lap.

All but one, who was sobbing into her hands, glanced at Esteban as he entered. They nodded, then went back to their noisy conversations.

Paco Esteban walked into the kitchen, where he found Se?ora Salma Esteban. He smiled warmly at his wife as she approached him. He saw that her face was still puffy from crying. It was all the more evident as she’d pulled her dark hair back and pinned it into a bun. She wore the same dingy beige sleeveless cotton dress that she’d had on earlier.

“What did you find out?” she asked in Spanish. “Did you find out who this evil man really is?”

Paco Esteban went to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed affectionately. Then he kissed her softly on the cheek.

“How is Rosario?” he said.

She nodded. “Bueno. She is sleeping upstairs. What did you learn?”

He kissed her cheek again.

“My love, I went and met with Se?or Nesbitt, the man who is the business partner of Se?or Skipper.”

“And?” she said anxiously.

“And he said it will be all right. That I am not to do anything until he says.”

“What!” Se?ora Salma Esteban almost screeched. She grabbed her husband’s sleeve and pulled him to the doorway leading to the parlor.

She then said in rapid-fire Spanish: “Look at this! Our family! And their families! Everyone is terrified for their lives!”

Paco Esteban saw some of the women look his way. And their eyes did indeed look terrified.

He moved back into the kitchen, almost tugging along his wife with him. “My love, there is only so much that I can do…”

“Paco! We cannot live this way! We cannot be so fearful that we do not know what will happen to us the next minute.”

“My love, it is not that I disagree with you. I would like answers, too. And peace. But Se?or Nesbitt said that he would call me.” He pulled out the cell phone that Skipper Olde had given him. “He said for me not to do anything until he called.”

“Where is Se?or Skipper?” Salma Esteban said. “Why can he not help?”

Paco Esteban shook his head. “He is in hospital, Se?or Nesbitt said. He is unable to speak with me for now.”

“Madre de Dios!” Salma Esteban exclaimed, looking at the ceiling.

She looked back at her husband and said, “And now we have your sister’s daughter coming here!”

The look of shock was apparent on Paco Esteban’s face.

“You have forgotten this!” Salma Esteban said.

He did not know what to say.

“Maybe: My love, it has been a bad day”?

Meekly, he nodded. “S?. I am sorry. But it will be okay.”

She began pacing the kitchen. She walked with her arms crossed, her hands nervously rubbing her upper arms.

Paco Esteban tried to stop her and wrap his arms around her. This time she would not allow him to do so. Her tears had started again.

“Paco! You must do something. You have always been able to do something when we’ve had difficulty. We cannot sit and wait like this. Please? You must go and do something… anything!”

Yes, I have always thought that I could do something.

But this is something very bad. Very evil.

What could I possibly do?

He heard wailing coming from the other room.

Then he saw his wife’s face, her eyes darting in the direction of the parlor as she nodded sharply toward it.

She’s saying, “There! See!”

And she’s right. I must go.

There was another wail.

If only because I cannot stand much more of this here.

“My love, you are right. I go now.”

She went to him and hugged him. He felt her sobbing on his chest.

When she finally pushed back, he saw her tears flowing down her cheek. They caused him to tear. He kissed the tears on her left check.

Then he went to the kitchen drawer and removed the keys to the minivan.

As a matter of habit-and because he could not immediately think of any other place to drive-he headed in the general direction of the laundromat.

Along the way, he tried to think what his options were.

Not many.

He said prayers to God. He said prayers to every saint he could think of. Anyone who could help him think of how he could begin to find this evil man.

And still he came up with nothing.

As he drove north on Broad Street and came closer to the laundromat on Susquehanna, the knot in his stomach became bigger and tighter.

He was not sure if that was because he was getting closer to the scene of where the evil man had turned their lives upside down, or because he was getting farther from finding any solution.

Then he saw the sign for the business that shared a wall with Sudsie’s-the Temple Gas amp; Go.

And he suddenly realized that Rosario had already given him the answer.

Praise God!

He continued driving up Broad Street. He made a right on Erie Avenue, headed for Castor Avenue.

Paco “El Nariz” Esteban pulled the minivan up to the island of gas pumps at the Gas amp; Go in the 3900 block of Castor Avenue.

It was the same convenience store, of course, where the previous Thursday Rosario had run for her life. And had jumped into Paco’s minivan.

Later, when Rosario had told Paco and Salma Esteban her stories, she had described how she and Ana had been kept at an old row house somewhere in the city. She did not know where in Philadelphia. Nor did she have a good idea of where in the city she and Rosario and the other girls were taken to work. Only that they were all some type of convenience store with regular customers.

But Paco Esteban knew the exact location of this particular Gas amp; Go. And he had decided that all he had to do was wait for the car or van-Rosario said they used a van-to pick up the girls. Then he could follow it back to that prison of a row house.

And that would lead him to the evil man who Rosario said called himself El Gato.

What I will do then, I do not know.

But first I must find him.

God help me…

El Nariz turned off the vehicle, opened the door, and got out. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill to prepay for his gasoline.

Then he walked to the door of the convenience store.

As he grabbed the metal handle, he suddenly realized he was not only scared. He was terrified. He was sweating, and it wasn’t because of the hot late-afternoon sun. This sweat, he noticed with some unpleasantness, had a foul smell to it.

He understood why he was terrified.

It was only early this morning that the evil man almost shot me.

What would happen if it is him inside this store?

He shook his head and tried to be reasonable.

But what chances are there of that?

I do not know.

And that also scares me.

He pulled open the door and walked in with all the confidence he could muster. He found that he was forcing himself to focus looking ahead, on the counter with the cash register. He did not want to look to the right, to the corner. The last time, that was where, under a sign with an arrow to the XXX video room, the Hispanic male in his midtwenties stood, keeping an intense watch on the door he just came in.

The pungent kimchee and garlic smells still hung heavily in the air. But the arrogant young Asian man wasn’t behind the register. Now there was an older Asian who looked to be maybe forty. And not so arrogant, like the other one, who acted as if he had something to prove.