It took him far longer than expected to reach the little huddle of houses. All his senses on alert, he trod carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible, checking behind every bush and tree, imagining potential ambushes every few yards. But he didn’t meet a single soul.Wherever the Docampos or the lighthouse keepers might be—assuming that the latter were searching for him—nobody was around in this part of the island.
When he reached the house, he tried the door but this time found it locked. He knocked impatiently, glancing nervously over his shoulder. He heard cautious footsteps inside.
“Who’s there?” Tristán Docampo’s voice sounded scared.
“It’s me!” he growled, his nerves shot. “Roberto Lobeira! Open the goddamn door!”
The handle turned, and Roberto stepped inside.
“At least you’re fully dressed this time,” he snorted. “That’s something. Can I ask what the hell you’re doing here? Do you have any idea what’s going on around you?”
“We needed to see each other,” said Helena shyly. “I was going crazy. The phones don’t work, and I was afraid something had happened to Tristán.”
“Anyway, you’re the one who asked to meet,” Tristán added reasonably.
“I know, I know!” said Roberto. “But not when Ons was about to turn into Jonestown, for Christ’s sake!”
“Jones what?” asked Helena in confusion, staring at him across the cultural abyss that separates the young from the old.
“It doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand dismissively. “We just have to get out of here. You both need to go home, and you have to promise to put the romance on hold until all this is over. Is that clear?”
The two young people looked at each other and nodded in a way that didn’t exactly fill Roberto with confidence.
“Okay,” he said. “Helena, I’m going to accompany you. Tristán, you head straight home but keep your head down, and if you see any of the Freires or the lighthouse keepers or a stranger, try to hide. All right?”
“The lighthouse keepers?” Tristán looked puzzled. “What have the lighthouse keepers got to do with all this? And what do you mean, a stranger? I know everyone on the island.”
“I don’t have time to explain just now. Please, just do as I say.”
“Hang on!” the boy said. “Do you mean there might be someone else on the island, an outsider? And that they could have killed Ricardo?”
“I don’t know.” Roberto closed his eyes in exhaustion. “Yes, maybe.”
Personally, I’d kill for another painkiller.
“That means it wasn’t the Freires!” exclaimed Tristán.
“I told you,” Helena reproached him. “Nobody in my family would have done something like this.”
“Right now, your respective families are preparing for something far worse,” interrupted Roberto as he opened the door. “The sooner we get out of here, the better our chances of preventing it. Come on, let’s get going.”
“Hang on! I almost forgot!” exclaimed Tristán, opening his canvas backpack. “Here. What you asked me to get.”
Roberto was overcome by such a sense of relief that his knees almost buckled. The boy was holding a clear plastic bag, inside which was a hammer with remnants of blood and hair on the head.
“Thanks so much, Tristán,” he said as he took it with shaky hands. “You’ve just saved my life.”
“You can’t imagine how hard it was to find,” the boy explained. “It was in my grandfather’s study, in a drawer in his desk. He almost caught me! I just about crapped myself.”
“You did a great job.” Roberto patted him on the shoulder. “Now let’s get out of here.”
He had to wait for what felt like an eternity as the two youngsters said goodbye to each other, with kisses, hugs, and whispered promises of undying love. Roberto impatiently shifted his weight from one foot to the other, worried that somebody would show up.
Despite the urgency, he felt a lot better. With the hammer finally in his possession, the Docampos had no way of implicating him in Pampín’s death. Without that card to play, and with the money safely tucked away in the graveyard, the balance of power had unexpectedly tipped back in his favor. Of course, there was also the problemof the psychopath roaming the island, but if he managed to stop the Docampos and the Freires from annihilating each other, time would be on his side. As soon as the storm abated, communication with the mainland would be restored, the park rangers would return to the island and, with them, sanity.
When Tristán left them, Roberto turned to Helena.
“Right, let’s get going—” He stopped mid-sentence and stared at the girl. “What the hell is that?”
