“No need to.” An elderly woman shuffled up the driveway, carrying a bag of dried cat food. Even though it was already mid-afternoon, she wore a light, gauzy, white nightgown and fuzzy pink bedroom slippers. “I feed him when they’re gone.”
Leanna stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Leanna, Ana’s cousin.”
“Belinda,” the woman said, returning a limp handshake. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here to visit Ana, but no one is answering the door. Do you know when they’ll be back?”
Belinda’s gaze made a sweep of the street and yard. She held her hand over her flank and creakily set the bag down. Bending over, she put a handful of cat food into the bowl. “They didn’t say. Left a bag of food for Pancho here.”
Pancho’s tail twitched as he stuffed his face into the food bowl. At least he was well fed.
“How about their daughter?” Leanna asked. “Did they take Carmelita with them? Have you seen her around?”
Belinda’s face froze. She fixed Leanna with a cold stare. “There’s no daughter. Only Ana, Eduardo, and Pancho.”
“What’s this?” Leanna pulled the letter from her purse. “Addressed to Carmelita Bandera.”
“Oh, that’s the old lady who visits. Eduardo’s aunt or mother? Let me see.” Belinda held her wrinkled hand out for the letter.
“I’ll keep it.” Leanna stuffed the envelope back into her purse.
“Stealing mail is a crime,” the other woman said. “Who are you? Maybe I should call the police.”
“Maybe you should. I’d love to speak with them about a missing child.”
“Except there is no such person,” Belinda said. “You don’t know the police around here anyway.”
“Very well. I’m leaving. If you see Ana, tell her Leanna Rivera, her cousin, came by.” Leanna backed away from the porch and stumbled.
“Yeow!” The cat arched his back and howled.
“You stepped on Panchito’s tail.” Belinda’s voice rose to a whine. “That’s a bad omen. You’ll have bad luck. If I were you, I’d go home where it’s safe.”
Leanna ignored the sour old woman and her stink eye and walked away. She noticed a teenage boy changing a bicycle tire on the patch of dried grass across the street. He wore a white cotton tank top and ripped jeans—sensible attire for the heat.
“Hola,” Leanna called out. She slung her purse over her shoulder and ambled over casually. “Hot enough?”
The boy swiped his bangs from his eyes and gave her a forced grin. He was a dark-skinned, skinny kid with teeth too big for his mouth.
Leanna nodded toward Ana’s house. “You know the girl who lives there?”
“I might.” The boy shrugged and went back to patching his tire.
That was progress. Leanna dangled a five-dollar bill. “What’s her name?”
“Who wants to know?” the boy snatched the bill. He frowned when he saw the denomination.
“Her mother,” Leanna said. She fished out another five. “Me.”
The kid made a play for the bill, but Leanna jerked it from his grasp.
“You’re not her mom,” the kid said.
“What do you know?” Leanna tucked the bill back into her purse. She’d gotten enough from the teen, confirming that Carmelita existed.
Turning sharply, she strode back to the large land yacht Axe had rented or stolen or whatever.
“Hey, wait!” the kid said, running up next to her. “Are you really Carmelita’s mom?”
