“No, that’s all,” he said. “But we’ve got to be careful how we break this to the Docampos.”
Coming to the village, the rain coming down hard, they turned onto the dirt path that led to the Docampos’ house, their boots saturated.
The Docampo home was just as large as the Freires’, but by contrast it was a relatively new construction, painted ochre yellow and with aluminum-framed windows. Antía, sheltering on the porch, knocked on the door and waited.
The door opened, and Amaia, Luis Docampo’s wife, stood on the threshold. She eyed them suspiciously. If she was surprised to see the pair together, she didn’t say as much.
“What do you want?” she spat.
“I need to talk to Ramón, Amaia,” Antía replied calmly. “It’s urgent.”
The woman gave them another suspicious look but nodded, and, without asking them in, shut the door. A short while later, the door opened again, and the head of the Docampo clan stood before them.
“Antía,” he grunted, and his gaze shifted to Roberto. “Lobeira. Well, what is it? Something happened with the money?”
“No, it’s not about that,” said Roberto. “It’s better if she explains.”
He had to admit, Ramón kept very cool as Antía quietly delivered the news. He paled slightly when she handed over the blood-soaked wallet, but managed to contain himself. Only the white of his knuckles betrayed the emotions presumably raging inside him.
“Wait here,” was all he said before the door closed in their faces for a second time.
Roberto and Antía stood sheltering on the porch, not quite knowing what to do next. From inside the house came a muffled female scream, but nothing more. After a moment, the door opened again, and a large group of Docampos rushed out, led by Luis.
As he passed by, he looked resentfully at Antía. “If you had anything to do with this,” Luis hissed, “my cousin’s blood won’t be the last that’s spilled on the island tonight. That’s a promise.”
“It wasn’t us,” she said, trying to stay calm.
“Oh no?” Luis brought his livid face close to Antía’s. “Who did it, then, huh?”
“Luis, that’s enough,” Ramón’s steely voice cut in, giving Antía no chance to reply. “Go get our boy and bring him home.”
“This isn’t the last you’ll hear of this,” growled Luis, casting a final, hate-filled look at Antía before moving off.
Only then did Roberto notice that Luis had a hatchet hanging from his belt, and he wasn’t the only one. A shiver ran through him. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen something like this, and he knew from experience how it usually ended when things began to spiral and people took justice into their own hands.
“Antía, go back home,” he whispered, squeezing her arm. “And call your mother. Tell everyone else to stay inside. If they run into the Docampos, it could get ugly.”
“But what about you? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Take shelter somewhere, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” she suddenly suggested. “Better than being all alone in that cottage—”
“Lobeira, I need to talk to you,” came a gruff voice from behind him. “Right now.”
Roberto turned to find Ramón Docampo glaring at them. He had no way of knowing if he’d heard their exchange, but he couldn’t snub the man without the risk of making things worse.
He exchanged a look of mute understanding with Antía before separating from her.
“Take care,” she whispered, turning to leave.
“You too,” he said, watching her slip away into the night. A feeling of dread came over him.
“Come on, then,” snorted Ramón Docampo, pointing inside.
Roberto stepped uncertainly into the house.
21
